Pureblood Dreams Halfblood Nightmares
by Lilybet
Summary: MWPP Sirius & Remus have fallen out. Morrigan Le Fay wants to find a key. Snape is curious. James wants Lily to go out with him. The Dark Lord is rising & an even worse evil lurks within dreams. Everyone knows what they want, but is it what they need?
1. Prologue and The Prank

**Summary:** Sirius has done that most terrible of things: Told Snape where Lupin can be found. Now, with the Maruaders fractured, a prank war getting out of hand, and Severus intrigued by Morrigan Le Fay, Hogwarts is a place of chaos in the Marauders' sixth year. Outside the Dark Lord is rising and an even worse evil lurks behind closed doors and within dreams. Everyone knows what they want, but is it what they need?

**Disclaimer:** The persons, indices, places, and other published works are the property of JK Rowling and Warner Bros. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this work.

**Beta:** Half-Drowned Dracula.

**Pureblood Dreams, Halfblood Nightmares**

Part One

Chapter One

by Lilybet

**Three thousand years ago, somewhere in Cornwall...**

The closing sound of swords clashing drove the witches to work faster. Getting the exact placement of the stones was imperative. One mistake could undo all the years of hard work and make a folly out of all the lives lost to get to this point. The witches closed their ears to the sound of screams and chanted over the last six white stones. Wild magic closed in around them and was channelled inwards to light each pebble with a different colour, giving them each a different property. Then the magic faded and the sisters shared a last look, a last word before racing off in different directions. The fighting was on the brow of the hill now.

Jeni ran across the shifting sands, the tide sweeping in. It was her duty to lay the heart stone in the temple carved deep into the rock. It had taken hundreds of men working in secret to create the immense space, and many lives had been bound into the stone as the wild magic commanded blood to be spilt. The stairs rose before her and Jeni hitched up her skirt, her bare feet slipping on the wet stone as she climbed.

She stood on the top of the storm wracked peninsula and cast one sweeping gaze over the world before her. The flash of bronze and cries were so close now as the men forced the retreat of the elves. Too long had they been bound by the magical creatures, too long had the strongest men and most fertile women been taken in the night. Now, with the wild magic theirs to control, the humans were taking the land for their own. Jeni saw the white banner of the King of the elves falter and fall. A great wave of joy swept her up and she shouted in glee, her hand tightening over the stone as she leapt in celebration. Then she turned and plunged into the rock.

The tunnel was dark, the stone steps slippery, but Jeni wasn't going to fail now. Before her lay the great chamber, and her feet slowed in the weight of magic. Here lay the last great rip in the world, one which led to the world beyond. A world in which no corporal being could live. In that world the elves would be condemned to live as pure energy for eternity, never again to plague Albion. Jeni stumbled as she walked up the few steps to lay the stone before the tear.

Here she had no need to search inside herself for the magic, it lay all around her. So she reached out and incanted the last of the chant which her sisters had begun, weaving magic into a discernible pattern. She felt her sisters, beyond the walls, doing the same. The net was made; now they tightened it. Suddenly a bright green light flared and Jeni cried out, closing her eyes.

When she opened them she saw the world from above. She was a spirit flying high. Below the men corralled the elves within the lodestone barrier. She saw her sisters bring their arms up and speak the last words. The elves cried out, and most fell to the ground. But three remained standing, the brothers of the fallen king. They stood straight and declared that they would return, that Albion would pay. The net of woven magic closed and the heartstone drew them in. Turned to immortal energy, the elves were banners in the breeze. The wind grew and the blue energy swept inside the stone and through the rip. There was a great sound of closing doors and they were gone.

A cheer went up, but not for Jeni. She watched as her body was found lying next to the new golden doors, a key clenched in her hand. Her life would be the last lost in the battle with the elves but as her sisters gathered she knew that the lives of generations to come would be spent guarding these doors. The humans of the world, led by the family of Le Fay, had won.

Beyond the doors a thought whispered: We will return. Beware the Elven King.

XOXOX

**Modern day...**

James stared, open mouthed, for a moment before turning and sprinting from the dormitory, pausing only long enough in the common room to throw a wand at Lily Evans.

"Don't let him out!" he yelled as he exited through the portrait hole.

Hurtling down flights of stairs he avoided a broken neck only by sheer luck, the uncanny reaction times that made him famous in Quidditch matches coming into play. As he jumped the last few stairs into the entrance hall the litany in his mind became audible.

"Stupid Sirius. Save Snape. Stupid Sirius..."

Flying out of the front doors James coaxed a bit more speed out of his tired legs, tumbling over the bumpy lawn towards the Whomping Willow. Though James had done some pretty terrible things to Severus Snape over the years, he would never have dreamed of doing what Sirius had just done.

"_I can't wait to see his face."_

"_Why? What have you done?"_

"_Oh, just told him how to get past the Willow. He'll get a good scare and... what? What are you looking like that for? James?... Hey! Give that back! James! James! Let me out of here!"_

Even the incident not three days past, when the last exams were done and they had been lounging out by the lake, could top Sirius' unthinking idiocy this time. Then Sirius had been bored, Snape more irritating than usual and James had been unable to contain himself. The look on Lily's face when Snape had called her 'Mudblood' was enough to throw him right over the edge, even though he had probably blown his chances with her as he hoisted Snape into the air.

He had tried to maintain a relaxed attitude when it came to Severus Snape and the whole pranking thing; all due to a deal he had cut with the beautiful Miss Evans. If, she had promised, he stopped pranking and became Head Boy, then she would go out with him. Which was at least partly why he was stumbling towards the Whomping Willow to save his enemy.

There was a part of him that wasn't concerned with deals and dates, however. All he knew what that if Snape saw what was at the other end of the tunnel under the tree all hell would break loose, and his enemy and his friend would be sharing more than a taste in books. So James was now racing through the late summer light across the lawn, pulling his wand from his pocket as he went. He had to stop Snape before he went down the tunnel.

Summoning a broken branch, James poked a knot near the base of the trunk, stilling the whipping branches. Diving down the tunnel he lit his wand quickly with a whispered, "_Lumos!_". Snape was nowhere in sight. Cursing fluently, James ran as fast as he could down the earthen tunnel, towards the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade.

XOXOX

Back in the fifth year boys dorm, Sirius Black paced back and forth, occasionally stopping to kick his trunk or hurl an innocent book across the room. He was muttering under his breath, ranting to himself alternately about his own stupidity, Snape's existence, and James Potter's habit of locking his friends in their dormitory.

Furious, he kicked his trunk hard, shifting it from where it sat. Yelping, he realised that kicking a heavy trunk in a bad mood was probably a bad idea. Sirius slumped onto his bed, nursing his stubbed toe, and picked up his rant again; which now included cursing his trunk.

A light tap at the door stopped his flow of words. A small frown appeared as he limped over to the firmly locked door.

"What?" he asked tersely.

"It's Lily." came the cautious voice on the other side.

"Lily, darling!" Sirius perked up immediately, "I don't suppose you'd be a doll and open the door would you? Only, a certain black haired Chaser has walked off with my wand."

"I know. No. And don't call me 'darling'." Lily said, exasperated.

Sirius' face fell, and he leaned against the very locked door.

"What did you do to deserve having your wand taken off you, _and_ being locked inside your dorm?" Lily asked.

Though she had seen James or Remus take Sirius' wand from him before (usually just before he did something stupid), she had never seen James as furious as he had been when he had thrown her the wand.

Listening through the door, Lily heard a muffled reply, "What was that?" she asked.

"I told Snape where to find Remus, alright!" snapped Sirius, sliding down the door to sit facing the dorm. He winced again, this time with the thought of what Remus was going to say when he found out.

"Why?" came Lily's angry, yet confused response.

"Because it seemed like a good idea at the time." muttered the boy, before adding louder, "Because I'm an idiot with no sense?"

"Huh. Really. I never would have guessed that." Lily said sarcastically, "I suppose you think that Remus is just going to forgive and forget!"

"Er..." Sirius hesitated. To be honest he hadn't really thought through the plan beyond scaring Snape. Belatedly, he realised just how much trouble Remus could actually get in if James didn't get there in time.

"He's not and he'll be right not to! This is the most irresponsible thing you have done. Ever."

"I know, and I'm sorry." he said, real regret and self-loathing filling his voice.

There was no sound from the other side of the door, and Sirius wondered if Lily had stormed off, disgusted at what he'd done.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." he said, punctuating each repetition by hitting his head against the door behind him.

"You won't make yourself any smarter by doing that." Lily said, a note of amusement filtering in with the anger, "You had better hope that Dumbledore goes easy on you, and that Remus is still around to listen to your apology."

"I...Oh Merlin. What have I done?" Sirius said, blanching as his imagination suddenly conjured the worst case scenario: Snape bitten by a raging werewolf.

"You think about that. I'll be back in a second." Lily replied, suddenly realising that she needed to tell someone what was going on. She had to get a message to Dumbledore, but although she was still furious at Sirius she didn't particularly want to leave him.

"I did it partly for you." Sirius admitted softly, his voice sounding more muffled than the door could make it.

Lily paused and leaned into the door, "What?"

"What he said to you after the Defence exam," Sirius explained, "It just got to me. No one should call you that. So I just thought, if you can call it thinking, that if he wanted to be all dark Pureblood fanatic then he should get to see a dark creature."

Lily took a shocked step back. She had never thought that Sirius would think that the danger which he had placed Snape in was justified. Replying as softly, she said "Maybe you should have been thinking less about revenge and more about the consequences of your actions. I'm sorry, Sirius, but I think this time you deserve punishment."

Sirius lifted his head from his hands, knowing that with those words Lily had left him to think about what he'd done. Standing up he started pacing again, this time with thoughts of what could have happened in the shack running round his head.

XOXOX

The summer light was filtering through the spaces between the boards on the windows of the Shrieking Shack as Remus sat in the middle of the floor waiting. Focused on his breathing, his ears pricked up as he heard someone coming through the tunnel into the shack. Sighing in relief, he let himself relax as much as he could; the rest of the Marauders had arrived.

Remus couldn't tell the others to stay away, even though this full moon the wolf was bound to be more vicious, lashing out as the worry about the holiday months flooding through Remus was felt by the animal. Their support meant so much to him; especially since they had started accompanying him on the full moons in their animagi forms. To be away from them for even a few months was not ideal, but they had no choice if they were to keep their illegal transformations secret.

He frowned lightly when his sharp hearing didn't pick up more than one pair of feet make their way to the front room. Lifting himself painfully from the floor he headed towards the ajar door. As he did the first of the moon's full rays crept over the horizon, lost in the daylight but still felt by the wolf. Doubled over in pain, Remus tried to warn the person outside the door, but his voice was lost in a grunt of agony. Falling to his knees, his attention turned inwards as he fought with the wolf pushing its way to the surface.

Occupied with the moon-induced pain Remus didn't notice as the door opened revealing Snape, though the wolf caught the scent as his muzzle cracked into existence. Lunging towards the one who smelt of fear and food, the half-transformed werewolf howled in fury when, unseen and unsmelled, his pack-mate slammed the door in his muzzle. The wolf forced the human deep inside and howled as the transformation completed.

Remus, his consciousness crushed under paw as the wolf gained full control, felt a last moment of anger and fear – betrayal – before the world as he knew it went black. This night was the wolf's now.

XOXOX

Pulling a white-faced Snape from the tunnel under the willow, James tried to still his shaking hands. That had been close, far too close. Another few seconds and ... James shuddered at the thought. Snape was unresisting as the two shaken boys made their way over to the main entrance, no real thought in his head aside from the need to get away from the creature in that room. The further the better.

James looked up, taking his eyes off the corrugated lawn, and his heart stopped in his chest, the absence of a beat making him feel like it had left. There, in the light spilling from the entrance hall, were Professors McGonagall, Slughorn, and Dumbledore. The Headmaster looked far from pleased, the normal twinkle in his eye replaced with a stern look.

"Follow me, gentlemen." he said.

A flood of emotions ripped through James, before settling on fear, not just for himself, but for Remus and even a little for Sirius too. This was not like other times when the Marauders had been disciplined; this time was deadly serious. Numbly he followed Professor Dumbledore, only half listening to McGonagall's tirade as they headed to the Headmaster's office. Behind him Slughorn was trying to rouse Snape from his fear-induced stupor, though the Head of Slytherin did not seem to be having much luck.

Reaching Dumbledore's office, James paid no attention to the fascinating spinning silver objects or to the ever-sleeping portraits which normally captured his attention on visits to the room. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the floor, his shaking hands clasped in front of him.

"I was most disturbed to learn that Mr. Snape had been informed of the method by which Mr. Lupin could be reached on full moons, though I was relieved to discover that actions had already been taken to avoid permanent damage to all parties." said Professor Dumbledore, a severe look overtaking the usual geniality as he sat behind his desk, the two boys in front of him.

"However, there is information I am still lacking. Who set this unfortunate chain of events in motion? Would either of you care to enlighten me?" Dumbledore looked over his half-moon glasses at the boys in front of him.

James fidgeted, throwing a glance at Snape, certain that the Slytherin would betray Sirius in an instant, yet at the same time unsure about whether he should turn his friend in. After all that had happened, and however angry he was at Sirius, it still seemed like it was their problem, not something to be dealt with by the teachers.

"Mr. Potter?" speaking softly, Dumbledore's eyes fixed on the boy, "Loyalty is wise, but this is a time for honesty."

The words cut through James' hesitation, "I'm sorry, sir, I ..."

Snape's head snapped 'round as the sound of James' voice broke the spell which seeing Remus transform had placed upon him. A look of pure hatred passed over his face before he turned to Dumbledore, sneering, "It was Sirius Black, sir. He told me where to go."

James closed his eyes, not wanting to see the looks on his Professors' faces. He knew what they would be anyway. Sure enough, when he opened his eyes again, Dumbledore was wearing that disappointed look, McGonagall looked furious and Slughorn was shocked.

"I see. Minerva, if you could fetch Mr. Black. I believe you will find him locked in the boys dormitory." said Dumbledore sadly, "Horace could you take Mr. Snape here along to the Infirmary, I believe Poppy is awaiting him."

"Yes, Headmaster." replied Horace Slughorn in a shaking voice, "Come along m'boy, let's get you checked over."

"What's going to happen to him? Sir?" Snape asked, slipping out of Slughorn's reach, "What's going to happen to Black?"

"That is what I shall have to decide." Dumbledore nodded slowly, as they left the room leaving James alone with the Headmaster. "Have a seat, Mr. Potter."

Sitting down, James waited for Sirius to arrive, trying to ignore the feel of Dumbledore's gaze.

"Mr. Potter, that was a very brave thing that you did. You should be proud of your actions tonight. Though Mr. Snape may never admit it, you saved his life." Dumbledore voice had warmed, and James relaxed the tiniest amount.

The door opened behind him, Professor McGonagall following Sirius into the room. Sirius looked completely downcast, whilst the Head of Gryffindor held his wand in her hand. All the anger James had felt when Sirius had told him what he'd done came flooding back, and he had to look away, clenching his fists tight to stop himself from yelling at the boy.

"Mr. Black." Dumbledore greeted severely, "Do you understand the consequences your actions could have had?"

"Yes, sir." said Sirius gravely.

"Since we are only a few days away from the end of term, and the fact that this is more serious than breaking a few school rules, I must inform your parents of this." Dumbledore fixed Sirius with a look which told him that the Professor knew about the uncomfortable situation at home, and was aggrieved that this had to be done, "For these remaining days you are confined to the Gryffindor tower and forbidden from performing any magic. To this end I shall hold onto your wand. It shall be returned to you on your departure from Hogwarts. Any other disciplinary measures I shall leave up to your parents."

"Thank you, sir." said Sirius, so relieved that he almost missed Dumbledore adding:

"I would also like you to apologise to Mr. Snape."

XOXOX

The morning dawned bright and clear, and the train was waiting in the station when Sirius finally boarded. The last few days had been sheer hell for him; not only had he had to apologise to Snape, which he had done very reluctantly, but Remus had been completely ignoring him. Sirius had been expecting the werewolf to shout at him and tell him he was an idiot, but the stony silence and refusal to even look at him was painful. James hadn't been much better, avoiding him when he could and not talking to him otherwise; even Peter had taken Moony's side in things.

Sirius wandered down the corridor, the cheerful noise coming from half full compartments making him even more depressed than he already was. Looking in each one, he was searching out his fellow Gryffindors. Would he even be a part of the Marauders any more? he wondered, or would he be exiled from the only group of friends he had known at Hogwarts.

Glancing into the final compartment in the carriage before he made his way into the next, Sirius finally spotted the other Marauders. Opening the door he felt unaccountably nervous as all eyes turned to him. His stomach fell through the floor as Remus quickly turned back to his book.

"What do you want, Black?" James said harshly. The tension in the carriage had gone up to a critical level as soon as Sirius had walked in. Now you could cut the pain and anger with a blunt spoon.

Sirius winced internally, he had never liked his last name and James knew it. "I...I..." he stuttered.

"Well?"

Swallowing his pride, Sirius spoke clearly into the space, making sure that everyone could hear what he said, "Mr. Padfoot would like to apologise for the incident of three nights past. If he had known that such damage would have been caused he would never have done it." Sirius paused and then, in a quieter voice continued, "I'm really sorry, Remus."

Closing the door behind him, Sirius walked down the corridor, his head hanging. All he wanted now was a place to hide until he got home, then he would try to avoid his mother for the next six weeks. He sighed; it was not looking like a fun summer ahead.

XOXOX

"You leave this house, boy, and you leave this family." his mother hissed.

For the first fortnight Sirius had had to put up with his mother's attentions; over the last five years he had grown used to her nasty comments and snide remarks. It was almost a ritual that he would get the whole 'disgrace to this noble house' and 'blood traitor' bit at least twice a week during summer.

When he had arrived home this summer, things were different; she had been praising him for coming up with a plan to 'rid the world of filthy half-bloods', showing him off to friends and relations, conveniently overlooking the whole Gryffindor issue for the first time ever.

Then his brother had come home from their cousin's. Regulus had had a quiet word with their mother and everything had changed. Sirius wished he knew what had been said, because the last week had been hell; instead of contenting herself with commenting on the shame that was Sirius, Walburga Black had been using her wand on the unfortunate boy.

All of which had led to where Sirius was now; standing at the front door of 12 Grimmauld Place, trunk floating serenely beside him, being threatened with disinheritance if he stepped out of the door.

"Thanks for the offer, mother dearest, but I'd rather fight a rampaging Hippogriff than remain where I'm not wanted." Sirius spat, "I've had enough of your backwards pureblood ideals, over inflated egos, and distorted values."

"You are no child of mine!" screeched Walburga.

"Too true." retorted Sirius, glad to be finally free of his hated family, "See you at school, Reggie."

With those words Sirius Black turned his back on centuries of pureblood heritage and left his only living family for good.

Throwing out his wand hand, Sirius summoned the Knight Bus, its lurid purple colour bursting into view seconds later. Getting on board, Sirius felt a wrench deep in his gut; he had always known somehow that it would come to this, but he hadn't thought it would be so soon.

"Godric's Hollow." he requested, fighting the tightness in his throat.

The journey was punctuated by lurches and general bad driving, throwing the confused boy from his seat more than once before they reached his destination. Leaving what felt like his last link to a previous existence, Sirius walked through the village, dusk slowly settling around him as he made his way to the Potter's.

Looking up at the small but well-kept house, Sirius was glad that he had friends, even if he was wary of the reception he would get from James. After knocking, the door was opened by Mrs Potter, a middle-aged woman with dark brown hair and an open smile.

"Sirius! What are you doing here? Come in, come in." she said, ushering the lad into the hall before calling up the stairs, "James! Sirius is here!"

In the face of Maria's natural kindness Sirius felt the barriers he had put in place when he had made the decision to leave suddenly fall. It hit him hard, his vision clouding for long moments as he tried to come to terms with it all; he had left home. So caught up in his emotions, he failed to hear James' heavy footsteps on the stairs, or the feel of Maria Potter's arms as they wrapped around him. Tears trickled down his face, and he struggled to catch his breath against the unexpected sobs shaking his body.

"Padfoot?" the soft voice of James broke into his distress, "What happened?"

"Left...disowned...nowhere else..." Sirius hic-sobbed, not caring that his best friend was seeing him in such a state.

As Maria murmured words of comfort in his ear, letting him release all of the last weeks of anguish and tension, Sirius couldn't help but cling to the woman who he had always felt was more of a mother to him than his own. Slowly the tears let up, leaving him dry-sobbing as he attempted to bring his emotions under control.

James placed a comforting hand on his shoulder saying with a faintly joking tone, "Mr. Prongs accepts the apology that Mr. Padfoot gave on the train, and invites Mr. Padfoot to stay for as long as he needs. On the condition that he stop the caterwauling." James turned to his mum, adding, "If that's alright, mum?"

"Of course it is." Maria said, shaking her head lightly in amusement.

Sirius untangled himself from James' mum and gave the other boy a serious look, "Are you sure? Even after...everything?"

"Wouldn't have said it otherwise."

XOXOX

Sirius played with the quill as he thought, the parchment laid out before him ready for his words, but he couldn't find the right ones. This wasn't the first time this summer he'd tried to write to Remus, and each time he'd failed to construct a single sentence that didn't sound stilted and formal. He knew the sentiment he wanted to get across, yet somehow he didn't think writing 'Stop being an idiot and forgive me' would have the effect he wanted. Besides, Remus wasn't the idiot, he was.

Telling Snape the way past the Whomping Willow and exposing him to a transforming Remus was quite likely the most stupid thing he was ever going to do in his life. It was certainly the worst to date. Not mentioning the consequences for him, the effect on the Marauders' friendship had been devastating. If Sirius hadn't left his family and blubbed on Maria Potter's shoulder the moment he got to Godric's Hollow it was likely the situation would still be as bad as when they left school. James had, thankfully, forgiven him, though Sirius believed his hair was going to remain yellow for the rest of the summer. Peter had come around quickly, though being a follower rather than a leader that was pretty normal for him. Remus though...

If Sirius couldn't find a way to write to him and rectify the situation before their sixth year at Hogwarts things wouldn't be pretty. Who knew what the werewolf would do. Would he continue to ignore Sirius? Or would Sirius start having to watch his back inside Gryffindor Tower as well as outside? What ever happened wouldn't be pleasant, which was why he had to write this letter.

_Dear Remus_... Well, that was a good start.

xoxox

**Thank you for reading. **

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**Even the smallest words can change the course of a story.**


	2. Morrigan Le Fay

**Pureblood Dreams**

by Lilybet

**Chapter Two**

September burst into life, filled with chattering children eager to begin their magical training. The journey back to Hogwarts had been awkward; Remus steadfastly ignoring Sirius even after James had spoken up on his behalf. It appeared as if Sirius' one mistake was going to cost him dearly.

Sat at the Gryffindor table Sirius heard whispers around him, the Marauders' difficulties obvious as Remus made his way past him to sit next to the empty seats shortly to be filled by first year students. James muttered a quick apology at Sirius before hurrying past to sit next to the werewolf, there to continue his crusade to reunite the canines.

Sirius sighed; things had been weird with James over the holidays, but after they had had a late night conversation, and Sirius had been hexed for a couple of weeks straight, the spectacled boy had truly forgiven him. He knew that convincing Remus would be a more arduous task, but Sirius was nothing if not stubborn. Though it seemed like his first hurdle was getting his friend to stay in the same room as him voluntarily; getting him to talk would have to wait.

The great doors opened, breaking him out of his morose thoughts, the new first years following Professor McGonagall in. Sirius allowed himself a tiny grin; new victims for pranks, and so small and sweet they looked too. His eyes flicked from face to nervous face trying to guess which house they would end up in, something he had done ever since his own unexpected sorting.

As he reached the end of the line (Ravenclaw, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff) he frowned. Too young to be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, but far too old to be a first year, a girl about his age entered the hall. Long dark hair obscured her features and her flowing purple and black robes were from no school Sirius knew of.

Muttering started up all over the hall as students from other houses noticed the new arrival, and he half turned to Remus to ask if he recognised any of the symbols decorating her hems, only to remember that the book-lover was half a table away and not talking to him.

The sorting proceeded rapidly, with Sirius getting about half his guesses confirmed (better than the disaster of last year when he'd managed a grand total of _two_ right guesses), leaving him feeling smug. A glance down the table revealed that James had tried to take over for him with the other Marauders, the spectacular look of failure on his face only serving to make Sirius' grin grow wider.

Then he noticed that the unknown girl was sitting next to the first years, and thus the Marauders, and he moved back to kicking himself. If he hadn't been such an idiot then he would be there rather than here, finding out who she was, where she was from, whether she was single – all the important things.

"Welcome one and all! My congratulations to our new arrivals; I hope you find your way around the castle, and that your teachers don't dock too many points when you don't." announced Professor Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye, "A particular welcome to Miss Le Fay who will be joining our sixth years, I trust you will all make her very welcome. As always we have a new teacher – Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, Charles Buskist."

Clapping accompanied the new Professor's small nod; a faintly coloured man with a neatly trimmed goatee and widow's peak hairstyle, he looked more like a teacher in favour of the Dark Arts rather than the Defence of them. Then again, their last teacher had been in the habit of wearing a cape and he'd been a charming, if somewhat dim, man. Until, that was, he'd tripped on its swirling folds whilst talking to Professor Sprout and fallen into the Venus fly-trap (the enlarged magical variety which had grown a taste for human flesh).

Sirius paid no attention to the rest of the Headmaster's speech, nor to the hot food bursting into view on the four house tables, raising the noise level of students exponentially. His mind was instead fixed on the problem that was Remus Lupin. An elbow in his side from an overenthusiastic third year forced him out of his musing, and he started filling up his plate.

XOXOX

"And I'm telling you, Remus, he does!" James argued, his voice carrying back to where Sirius was trailing. The first two days of school had passed without incident, but Remus' silence was still stony, leaving Sirius unhappily removed from the centre of the Gryffindor sixth year group.

"Enough!" came the forceful reply from Remus, "All I've heard from the both of you is how sorry he is, and I've had enough. Nothing either of you say is going to change things, so just stop bothering me about it!"

Sirius sagged - for a moment he had thought that Remus had given in and was going to forgive him. His pace towards Charms slowed even further, and he suddenly wished that he hadn't bothered to get out bed that morning.

Not even the sight of Miss Le Fay standing outside the classroom could peak his interest. It was very rare for a student to join the school in the Upper years. Occasionally a Muggleborn pupil would wait to finish Middle School, arriving in Second Year, but for someone to turn up just to take the last two years was weird.

As the door opened and the class (Ravenclaw & Gryffindor) filed in, James joined him, muttering, "I'm sorry, Padfoot. Maybe if we -"

"No." interrupted Sirius, "He's made his feelings clear. Let's just drop it, alright."

"Okay, if you're sure." James said worriedly, settling into his seat between the estranged boys.

"Welcome back. This year we will be covering advanced Charms work. Along with the non-verbal skills you will be practising in all your classes, we will focus on conjuring objects, illusions, and controlling the elements." Professor Flitwick said, his excitement about the sixth year course making his voice even higher than normal.

"We will be starting with illusions. Miss Le Fay, I believe this is something you have had already covered?"

"Yes, Professor." replied the girl in question, who, Sirius noted, was sitting with the Gryffindor girls from sixth year: Lily Evans, Alice Cooper, and Beatrice Carr.

"Would you mind giving a quick demonstration?" asked Flitwick.

"Um, okay Professor." said Le Fay uncertainly, "Corporeal or non-corporeal, sir?"

"Oh, let's start with non-corporeal shall we?" said the Professor with a wave of his hand.

Le Fay nodded and pulled out a pitch black wand with her left hand. With a flourish she waved it in a complex motion, without saying a word, and a flash of light coalesced to form a tabby cat sitting on the desk looking slightly startled.

The girls next to her gasped, it was a perfect illusion of a cat. Tentatively, Lily reached out towards it, only to find her hand passing straight through its body to hit the desk below. The cat looked at Lily with an odd expression and went back to washing its paws.

"Ah, hum." Professor Flitwick cleared his throat, gathering the attention of the class back to him, "As Miss Evans had so nicely just demonstrated, this is a non-corporeal or bodiless illusion. If you would be so kind, Miss Le Fay..." he gestured at the cat which was now batting futilely at Lily's fingers.

Another wave of Le Fay's wand and the the cat's paw suddenly connected with its target. Lily yelped in surprise, pulling her hand back sharply, then tentatively reaching back out towards the feline. This time her fingers felt the soft fur and she began to stroke the tabby, a smile growing on her face.

"Excellent." praised Flitwick, "The corporeal illusion is to the eye exactly the same as the non-corporeal illusion. However, the other senses are now similarly fooled as to the reality of the illusory object. The cat now..."

XOXOX

Remus' attitude was as unshifting as the mountains as the weeks passed; no matter how many times Sirius apologised or tried to ease the situation by acting normally (i.e. pranking the first years) around the werewolf, Remus remained stubbornly unforgiving of his actions.

Sirius wandered through the library, hoping vaguely that he might surprise Remus in his natural habitat. There could be a chance that the beast would feel more comfortable when hiding in its lair, Sirius snickered to himself. He turned a corner, and as he noted the dust motes floating through the air in an absent way he overheard two familiar voices in one of the study areas.

Tiptoeing over, Sirius pulled out a convenient text and smiled as he confirmed his suspicion; Lily Evans, sitting with her back to him, talking to Le Fay. Though he had had every Charms and Defence lesson with the girl, Sirius still hadn't had a proper chance to look at her. She had the same black hair and slim form as his cousin, Bellatrix, enough that from behind there was a passing resemblance. But that was where it ended; when she turned around her open smile and deep blue eyes showed a very different character.

"Morrigan?" Lily said, and Sirius leaned forwards to listen, "I've been wondering, how come you didn't come to school before this year? I know what Professor Dumbledore told me as Gryffindor Prefect for our year but..."

"Then you know all there is to know." Morrigan Le Fay said lightly, blotting her parchment of excess ink.

"Oh, come on." Lily said slyly, "'To get a more rounded education'! You know more about Charms than Flitwick! And I bet you could teach a thing or two about Runes."

"There's more to school than books and learning you know." Morrigan replied, "At least that's what they'd have us believe."

"Oh I know." Lily said with a wink, "I bet you'd like Sirius to teach you something."

"Wha- Ha! Lily!" Morrigan gasped in shock.

"The look on your face!" giggled the red-head, fending off the balls of discarded parchment now being hurled at her.

"Are you quite finished?" asked Morrigan snidely,

"Only if you've run out of parchment." quipped Lily.

"I could just conjure up some more." mused Morrigan, "Or maybe a flock of fairies..."

"Ah. Alright. I'm done." Lily said, not wanting to be attacked by conjured fairies, "But you didn't really answer my question, you know."

Morrigan scribbled something down and muttered under her breath before pulling another book towards her.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Lily asked.

The other girl looked up and fixed Lily with a stare that Sirius had no desire to be on the end of; it looked as though Morrigan was trying to read Lily's soul. "You want know why I'm here?" Morrigan sighed eventually, continuing at Lily's quick nod, "Well, I'm trying to find something. It's an artefact that was lost, and it would be helpful for Mot-the Ministry. "

"I see." acknowledged Lily, "That explains all the..."

Morrigan laughed quietly as Lily looked around the room aimlessly, examining the window frames, cornices, everything.

"Have you got _Dearheart_'s Appreciation over there?" Morrigan asked, examining her pile of books.

"Nope." Lily replied, her curiosity obviously satisfied for now.

Morrigan slid from her chair and walked around the table towards the bookcase Sirius was spying through. He barely had time to duck before she was looking right at the space he had created to see through.

"I was sure it was right here." she muttered.

Sirius turned over the book in his hand which he had pulled from the case, and the golden lettering reading '_The Appreciation of Illusions' by A. Dearheart_' jumped out at him. Stifling a groan, he decided to take the bull by the proverbial horns; the girls were doing Charms homework, something he would need to do at some point, he had a book they needed, and they had information he wanted...

Moving in a crouched run down the stacks he approached the girls from the opposite direction from his own books.

"Ladies!" he greeted, sliding into the seat next to Lily.

"Sirius. What do you want?" she returned in a mildly annoyed voice. Though she still harboured some angst about the whole Snape-Remus issue, she had more or less returned to her usual level of putting up with Sirius (somewhere between shouting at him and ignoring him).

"I think it's more of a case of what you want." he said silkily, shaking the book in his hand.

"Is that...?" Le Fay asked, a knowing tone in her voice that made Sirius faintly nervous.

"Hmm, _The Appreciation of Illusions_? Fascinating read." Sirius confirmed, flicking through the text and praying that she hadn't spotted him spying.

"I don't suppose I can borrow that." Morrigan stated rather than asked.

Sirius looked between the book and her with a 'What? This?' look on his face, before setting it down with a firm hand on top.

"How about we make a deal?"

"Sirius!" Lily warned, knowing how Sirius' 'deals' usually ended up (goo, lots of goo).

"Lily!" he mocked, wondering if he could take care of two birds with one stone. More information on this mysterious artefact and help with his homework... the possibilities were endless. As was the staring match which Lily was refusing to break.

"I don't believe we've had the pleasure of being properly introduced." Morrigan said, waving her hand between the pair.

"Sirius Black, infamous member of the Marauders." he announced, holding out his hand as he blinked the stare-feeling out of his eyes.

"Morrigan Le Fay, heir of Tintagel." she replied, shaking the proffered hand.

"Wonderful," Lily grumbled, "Now that we're all introduced...What do you want in return for that book, Black?"

Sirius tried not to flinch at his last name; it was one thing to hear it from teachers or say it himself, but whenever he heard it in harsh tones it reminded him forcefully that he wasn't a part of that family any more. The Slytherins had kindly informed him of his ex-family disinheriting him, in loud voices complete with snide remarks. Regulus in particular had yelled out about the singe mark on the family tapestry where his name used to be.

"Simple really, Tiger-Lily." he said, pushing a teasing note into his voice that had been so easy last year, "Your assistance will gain you this valuable volume."

"Don't call me that. Assistance with what?" Lily shot back.

"Charms." Sirius smiled – charmingly.

"Lily? We do need that book, and unless there's another copy I think helping him is the only way." Morrigan suggested, "Though I'd love to know how you plan on using our help without your stuff." she added, raising an eyebrow.

Score one for Le Fay not being Bellatrix, thought Sirius. _Dear_ Bella wouldn't help him if he was standing in a herd of enraged Hippogriffs wearing eau d'ferret.

"I have a remarkable memory." he boasted, not planning to admit that his quill and ink were in Gryffindor tower looking decidedly unused.

"Yes, I bet you can remember every one of your pranks from the last five years." Lily sighed.

"In loving detail." he grinned.

"Pranks?" inquired Morrigan.

"Oh no! Don't get him started!" pleaded Lily, "He'll go on for hours about them. All the 'Marauders' will. Let's just do the Charms work and get rid of him as fast as possible."

"Is that any way to recommend a fellow Gryffindor?" Sirius pouted, or tried to around the grin that had bubbled up.

"I wouldn't recommend you to the Giant Squid, let alone another human being." snorted Lily.

"I don't see what James sees in her, really I don't." Sirius said to the ceiling before coming back to earth with a grin, "So, these pranks of mine. They are absolutely wonderful, crafted with ingenuity and love."

"And I bet they lead you to all sorts of places in the castle..." Morrigan said, trying to lead Sirius carefully. If he knew the castle well enough it would certainly cut down on her searching time.

"Detention mostly." Lily answered for him, trying to gently pull the book out from under Sirius' elbow.

"Now, now. You don't get this just yet." Sirius said, taking firmer hold of the book.

"Fine then. Charms." Lily scowled, "Shall we?"

XOXOX

Two hours later and it was a groaning Sirius who stumbled into the common room holding his head. The girls had taken him at his word and filled his head with so much information about illusions he thought he was going to become a pretty pattern on the ceiling.

"Sirius? You alright, mate?" James' voice tugged him over to their familiar chairs by the fire, "You look like you got into a fight with a dragon."

"And lost." added Peter.

"Your soon-to-be-girlfriend is evil." accused Sirius, dropping his bag by the chair as he slid into comfort.

"She is not!"

"She made me recite everything she and Morrigan told me back to her until I could remember it word perfect." groaned Sirius.

"You shouldn't have told her you had a perfect memory then." Remus said, gathering up his stuff in preparation of vanishing as he did whenever Sirius sat with the Marauders.

"It was 'remarkable', and how do you know that?" Sirius retorted, in no mood to pander to the werewolf's injured feelings.

"Why should I tell you anything?" Remus said venomously, "You can't be trusted."

He picked up the last of his heavy books and stalked away, talking the stairs two at a time in his haste up to the dormitory.

Sirius growled and punched the chair arm, muttering under his breath about werewolves and a lack of brains. As he put his overworked head back into his hands he caught sight of James' worried look and Peter's nervous one. It really wasn't fair on them, he thought sluggishly, they were stuck in the middle of a seemingly never-ending argument. Maybe it would be easier if he didn't hang out with them anymore.

He made to drag himself out of the chair, planning on telling Remus he could have the pair, no matter how much it would hurt to lose his friends. A hand falling on his shoulder stopped him short of his intended action.

"Oh no you don't." James said, pushing him firmly back into his chair, "We're stronger together."

"But we're not together, are we?" argued Sirius.

"We will be." James replied softly, "Peter? Go check on Moony, would you?"

Peter scampered away, the relief on his face obvious as he left the tension behind him. James crouched down at Sirius' side and fixed him with the patented you-will-listen look of Potters everywhere.

"Padfoot. He will get over this, you know that. He's just confused and upset; we all promised that we'd never let anyone find out about his furry problem, and you were the one who convinced him we would keep to that. But once he realises how sorry you really are, how much you're kicking yourself because of this, he'll come round."

"I know, Prongs, I know." sighed Sirius, twisting his tie between his fingers, "He just needs time, blah, blah, blah..."

There was a silence as the fire popped and settled in the grate. The common room was empty except for the pair of them, everyone else tucked up in bed dreaming of magical things. James stood up and paced once across the floor to the window and back, pausing to look up at the gibbous moon.

"Look, if you want we can try the letter thing again. I think I've got that non-tear spell down this time." James suggested.

Sirius just groaned.

"Bad idea? Or headache?" James asked.

"Your soon-to-be-girlfriend is evil." Sirius reiterated, clutching his head.

"I'm sure she's got your best interests at heart." James smirked, "Bet you can do that Charms homework now."

Sirius groaned again in reply.

XOXOX

**Hope you enjoyed it, please remember to Review.**


	3. Halloween

**Pureblood Dreams**

by Lilybet

**Chapter Three**

Severus Snape was hurrying back to the Slytherin common room, slim arms wrapped around his potions textbook, when he spotted the figure hunched in one of the cloister arches. Taking advantage of the shadows behind him, he merged into the darkness and watched for a moment.

It was well past curfew and he had no desire to be caught out by one of the prefects or an unforgiving teacher. The figure shifted, a leg swinging clear as the girl rearranged herself without ever taking her eyes off her book. No glint of a prefect's badge marred the shadows and Severus began to feel certain that this was a fellow curfew breaker.

He was about to step out when a teacher swept around the corner; it was Professor Buskist, the new Defence teacher. Severus sneered to himself, the man was far too lenient with the Gryffindor antics, especially those of a certain disinherited mutt.

Professor Buskist also noticed the girl but, to Severus' surprise, didn't say anything until he was standing right next to her.

"Miss Le Fay. You should be in Gryffindor tower."

"So I should." Le Fay replied without an upward glance.

"If you continue to break the rules-" Buskist began,

"You'll what? Tell my mother?" Le Fay sneered.

Though Severus had not had much to do with the new girl, he knew that she was considered to be respectful towards the teachers; "quiet and intelligent" Professor Slughorn had called her. Her responses now seemed far from respectful, and Severus began to wonder what the new girl was _really_ like.

"I need not remind you that this is not the only place you could be." the Professor warned.

"Ah... and once again you resort to threats to make me respond. It's nice to know you have such a range of tools at your disposal." Morrigan said sarcastically, tucking the book into her midnight-black robes and jumping down from her seat, "As it happens I'm getting chilly and will retire for the night."

"I will accompany you to the common room." said Professor Buskist in a tone that left no room for argument.

"My knight in shining armour."

Severus listened as their footsteps receded into the distance and pondered what he had heard. That Le Fay was not what she pretended to be was obvious, as was the fact that she did not regard the Defence professor in the same light as the other teachers. Then again, the Professor was not like other teachers; to speak with such clear sarcasm to a member of staff without being reprimanded was unheard of; not even the infuriating Marauders could get away with that one.

Silently Severus moved from his hiding place, taking the corridor away from where the pair were heading, and down to the dungeons; the Slytherin sanctuary.

XOXOX

The black figure was chasing after him again; no matter how far or fast he ran it was always right on his heels. Panting breathlessly he swerved around the corner of the red-lined corridor. Doors closed before him as he futilely grabbed at the handles, begging them to open for him. The footsteps grew louder and louder, echoing hideously in his ears, mixing with the boom of his blood.

Stumbling, he fell, his foot catching as it always did on the rough stone floor. The stone chamber sounded with the everlasting pleas, just out of hearing, his voice bouncing back and forth in the space as the figure coalesced itself behind him. He twisted around, caught in a web, unable to move. A harsh yellow light flickered out and his nerves screamed, agony clearing all thought from his mind.

The cry forced itself from Sirius' throat as he brought himself abruptly awake, the sheets twisted round his legs and torso drenched with sweat. Fighting back the panic that had lodged in his throat he carefully untangled the offending material, swinging his legs over the side of his bed to clutch the side as he calmed his heartbeat.

No one else was in the dorm, giving it that abandoned air which seemed to accompany places once the occupants had left. Quickly dressing and throwing together his bag for the day, Sirius ran down the stairs through the common room and down to breakfast. As he ran he wished the agony of the summer would stop invading his dreams. It had been bad enough living through torture by the hands of his mother once, but living it again in his dreams was somehow worse.

The atmosphere in the great hall was oddly tense as he made his way over to James' side. The Slytherins were looking more superior than usual, while everyone else was muttering to each other nervously. Sliding into his seat he snagged some toast and reached over for Peter's morning paper. The small boy's face was ashen and his hand shaking as the paper slid out of his grasp. Sirius frowned and turned to the headline.

_**Celebrations turn to grief**_

_By Linda Wallis_

_An attack by masked men changed a joyful reception into a disaster at Bridgehouse, Lincs._

_Yesterday should have been the best day of Lucinda Hill's life, but a brutal attack marred the celebrations of her recent marriage to her fiancée and childhood sweetheart, George Green. _

_As the reception got into full swing and the happy couple were taking their first dance together as man and wife, a dozen masked and cloaked men apparated into the village hall. Much confusion ensued among the forty guests. Confusion which quickly turned to fear as the men began using a host of Dark Arts spells to torture and kill. _

_As other wizarding residents of the part-muggle village altered the Ministry forces, the mysterious men announced themselves as 'Death Eaters'. They proceeded to use the Unforgivable Curses, all of which carry a lifetime sentence in Azkaban. By the time the Aurors arrived the mysterious men had disapperated, leaving all but six of the wedding party dead and over the grim scene a grisly skull-and-snake motif. _

_Among the survivors was the sadly widowed Lucinda Green nee Hill, severely traumatised and with numerous broken bones. She and the other five survivors of the vicious attack were removed to St. Mungo's for medical treatment. _

_An official from the Ministry commented: "Rest assured that the Auror department will be doing all they can to uncover the perpetrators of this attack and bring them to justice." _

_The skull-and-snake motif which hovered above the scene has been connected with a number of disappearances among Muggleborn families (see pages 6&7 for full accounts), something which has prompted speculation about the cause of this attack. Research shows that the Green family were all Muggles or Muggleborn wizards, whilst the Hill family were Halfbloods. It was noted that all the survivors came from the bride's family, small consolation though it must be for the bride herself. _

_The appearance of these self-proclaimed 'Death Eaters' again truly raises the question as to whether this attack and the disappearances are connected. When questioned, the Ministry official denied any connection stating that it was as likely to be a enemy of the family to be a coordinated attack by Muggle-haters. (cont on pages 3&4)_

Sirius put down the paper and shared a look of incredulity with James by his side.

"Can you believe these guys?" James asked, "What sort of person does this to fellow witches and wizards?"

"I know." agreed Sirius, "I knew there was something freaky going on, but this..." he waved his hand over the picture of a flickering skull-and-snake motif hovering in the air above a marquee.

"Not good."

"Not good at all, Prongs. Plus," he said, trying to inject some levity, "who came up with the name _'Death Eaters'_ ? Sounds more like a bug than a murderer."

"You'd know. After all, you're no better than they are, Black." snarled Remus.

A hush fell on the middle of the Gryffindor table, everyone waiting for Sirius' reaction. The tension rose as the pair held each other's gaze, and Peter dropped his fork nervously.

"What did you say?" Sirius said quietly.

"I... I said that you are no better than the Death Eaters." Remus replied, a knot of fear forming in his stomach. He'd gone too far, he knew it, yet somehow he couldn't take it back. Having said it he was unable to deny it.

"I thought so." Sirius got up from the table, ignoring the fact he hadn't eaten, and walked away.

The Marauders watched him go, all waiting for something else, some explosion that was typically Sirius. Yet he didn't turn back, didn't throw any curse or hex, just walked out of the Great Hall, fury evident in his every move.

James glared at Remus, "I hope you're happy with yourself." he said, before taking off after Sirius.

XOXOX

Hallowe'en arrived with a flurry of red and golden leaves, the wind tearing them off the trees of the forest and dashing them against the windows of Hogwarts. Since Remus had insulted Sirius things had gone from bad to worse in Gryffindor tower.

Sirius had brooded for a week or so, refusing to speak to anyone unless it was to answer a question in class. Then, when James had all but given up hope of prising him out of his shell, the incidents began. At first it was little things, missing homework or ruined books, but it had quickly escalated to more serious episodes. And every one of them was against Remus.

Not two days previously Remus had woken up to to find all of his school robes torn to pieces, unsalvageable even with magic.

The events weren't spoken about outside of the tower, and when they were mentioned inside it was in whispers. No one wanted to turn Sirius' temper against themselves.

Remus had taken the 'pranks' well at first, knowing that he deserved something for casting aspersions on Sirius' loyalties, but as things had become worse his own mood had turned foul. He still had not forgiven Sirius for betraying him, and today he was determined to settle the score with the Marauder.

Having set his personal alarm to a very early hour, he had woken well before any of the other three boys, making it much easier to change into one of James' borrowed robes (they were basically the same height, though James was broader in the shoulder) and slip out of the room.

Closing the portrait door behind him, Remus was rewarded with a sleepy mumble from the Fat Lady before he set off for the kitchens. It was so early that the sun was only just thinking of getting up, and the school was oddly quiet in the pre-dawn light. Still, Remus made sure to take the back passages and little used corridors to the painting of a bowl of fruit that covered the entrance to the kitchen.

Tickling the pear, he opened the door, bracing himself against the expected onslaught of cheerful house-elves. The huge kitchens, however, were silent; not a house-elf in sight.

"I suppose they have to sleep sometime." Remus muttered to himself.

A 'pop' behind him made him turn, wand half drawn. One of the missing house-elves stood there, rubbing its bulbous eyes free of sleep.

"What can -yawn- Twiggy do for you, young master?" the House-Elf drowsed sleepily.

"Do you have the pumpkin decorations for tonight down here?" asked Remus, feeling a little sorry for the creature.

"Hng. This way, young master." said Twiggy, stretching and heading off deep into the underground kitchen complex.

Remus jogged after the little being, running over his plan again in his mind. He smirked to himself, Sirius would pay for everything, starting tonight: Snape, the pranks, being an idiot..

"Here we are, young master. Will you be needing any help with anything else?" Twiggy said, a large yawn engulfing his last words.

"No, thank you." Remus said, looking over the forty-two pumpkins specially carved for the Hallowe'en feast that evening, "And I can find my own way back." he added kindly.

"As young master says." Twiggy bowed, vanishing with a _pop_.

Making sure there really wasn't anyone around, Remus pulled out his wand and a sheet of parchment.

"This will teach you to mess with me, Sirius Black."

XOXOX

Peter ran down the hallway, puffing and panting as he went. He was late for the start of the Hallowe'en feast and he'd had a feeling during lessons that Remus was up to something. The werewolf had been smiling and humming to himself whilst studying. This would have tipped off the other Marauders if they hadn't spent most of the day arguing about the detentions they had received for being late to their first class. Peter had noticed though, and he was almost certain that Sirius was about to be paid back for the 'pranks'.

Slowing, he entered the Great Hall at a more respectable fast walk. Catching sight of the Gryffindor table this slowed even further until Peter came to a dead stop, his mouth falling open in amazement.

Near the head of the table he could just make out a very annoyed, orange, Sirius Black. Edging closer Peter observed that the orange colour was not due to a spell or botched potion, but that it was the remnants of numerous pumpkins, about a dozen of which were still hovering over Sirius' head. The boy was glancing up every now and again as if checking that they were still there.

"It's a beautiful sight." James murmured in his ear as Peter sat down.

"What happened?" Peter asked, mildly annoyed that he'd missed the main event.

"As soon as Sirius set foot in the Hall all the floating pumpkins started edging towards him. At first we didn't notice. Then, when there was a huge crowd of them over his head – thrump!" James brought his hands down over Peter's head making him squeal, "All but those dozen exploded all over him! He was yelling and cursing, you should have heard McGonagall having a go at him for his language."

"What about those dozen?" Peter said, filling up his plate absently as he stared at Sirius.

"Give it another minute." Remus smirked, having heard James' retelling from across the table. He was very pleased with the effects so far; his return prank was going according to plan.

"You did this?" accused James, "When?"

"That, Prongs, would be telling." Remus smiled, "Thirty seconds."

Around Sirius' head the pumpkins were starting to spin in a circle, very slowly at first but faster and faster as the deadline approached. Just as Remus hissed, "Now!" under his breath, they engulfed Sirius, leaving no part of his body visible.

Then, with a pumpkinny explosion, they burst outwards, splattering those closest with pumpkin-innards. Once the seeds had settled Sirius was revealed. Only he was no longer in a shape to be eating dinner. In fact he was more of a shape to be eaten, seeing as how he had been turned into a large, round, orange, pumpkin.

Laughter burst out across the Hall from the cheerful faces of students, and even a few staff.

Professor Dumbledore stood after a while and gestured for silence, "A quite astounding piece of magic. If the individual responsible will reveal themselves, I will happily award fifty points." he clapped, and the worst of the pumpkin mess vanished, though Sirius remained round.

James looked at Remus who had turned a light shade of pink and was looking like he was forcing himself not to stand and take credit.

"Why don't you?" he whispered across the table.

"Fifty points!" encouraged Peter.

"No..no, if I do it will ruin the point of it all." Remus sighed in frustration, "He deserves this, and I don't need thanking."

XOXOX

Back in the Gryffindor common-room the chattering students gathered 'round Sirius-the-pumpkin, the Quidditch beaters having carried him up on the command of their Head of House, Professor McGonagall.

"Do you think he'll be alright?" asked a third year girl.

"Who did it, do you know?" a fifth year wondered.

"Whoever it is, I don't want to be in their shoes when he's changed back." replied his friend.

"Will McGonagall be able to?" worried the third year.

"Remus?" James wormed his way out of the crowd to where Remus was sitting by the window, "You alright there, Moony?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Just a little tired."

"Get up early did you?" James smirked, getting a smile in return.

"Will he turn back alright?" James motioned over his shoulder to the giant pumpkin.

"Sure. But not for a while. Some time being a vegetable should be good for his health." smirked Remus.

A murmur ran through the Gryffindors as Professor McGonagall entered through the portrait.

"If I may have a closer look at Mr...Black." McGonagall said, making James wonder (not for the first time) whether the pause was intentional and the Transfiguration Professor had a sense of humour.

The room had gone absolutely silent, everyone watching in interest, none more so than the three Marauders clustered round one of the study tables.

McGonagall examined Sirius-The-Pumpkin, muttering spells under her breath and watching various sparks fly off him as she did. Then with a sigh she straightened up and looked around the room. Her eyes alighted on the human Marauders and beckoned them over.

"Mr Black is under a time-lapse spell, and will remain in this form until morning. I suggest you take him up to your dorm – carefully – and place him somewhere safe." she advised, looking each of them over with a stern glare, "If I find out any of you three had anything to do with this I will give all of you so many detentions you'll be serving them when you're eighty."

With that McGonagall left the common room, and the three Marauders embarked on a plan to get Sirius to their dorm without damaging him. It seemed to be very difficult, what with Remus bursting into laughter every thirty seconds. Finally they tucked the pumpkin into Sirius' bed, and wandered back downstairs to take in the congratulations of their peers at such an audacious prank on one of their own.

"Oh, James?" Lily said sweetly, as the boys arrived back in the common room.

"_Yeeess_." James replied warily.

"You do remember out little deal? No pranks?" Lily purred.

"I...I..." James stuttered, "I had nothing to do with that! I've kept to my word. Not one single prank this year!"

"It's true." interrupted Peter mournfully, pulling a pumpkin seed out of his hair and glaring at it.

"You just remember your side of the deal." James warned, stepping close to Lily and running a finger through her hair. "You go out with me next year."

"Only if you're Head Boy!" retorted Lily cuttingly, stepping back and pulling out her wand.

"I will be." said James smugly, turning to Remus, "Now you! Tell all!"

"Gladly."

XOXOX

Remus walked through the cavern filled with dancing lights and knew, somehow, that he was deep underground. The deep water that lay between him and the island in the centre of this paradise reflected the glistening streamers of magic. Reaching out to touch one of the banners, Remus' fingers tingled painfully.

Far away in the distance a bright globe appeared. Automatically Remus flinched, waiting for the pain of transformation to begin. With disbelieving eyes he looked up at the moon that filled the sky overhead; he was still human.

Then he was running, running through long grass with other wolves at his side, his pack, glorying in the freedom without the fear. He knew what he was and accepted it fully. A horn sounded in the distance. He ignored it, the snow compacting under his paws. Again the horn blew, sounding his name: Remus! Remus!

"Remus! Wake up, we're going to be late for breakfast!" James called, shaking his shoulder.

It was morning and Remus was in the dorm. Shaking off the feeling that the dream he'd been having was different from his usual werewolf-eat-people nightmares, he looked over at Sirius' bed. There was still a pumpkin in it.

"Is he going to miss breakfast too?" Peter asked, pulling on his socks with a nod at the vegetable.

"He should turn back at half eight." yawned Remus, slowly ambling out of bed.

"Well he'd better get a move on cause I'm-" James began.

There was a strange squelching sound and the pumpkin began to stretch and contort, turning odd black and pink colours. Then with a pop, Sirius appeared, sitting in the middle of his bed, the covers puddled around him.

"Prongs? What's going on? Did I miss the feast?" Sirius asked.

"Sirius! How are you feeling, mate?" James said, going over to join the ex-vegetable.

"Odd. Really odd." Sirius replied distantly, as though he was describing Peter's latest sandwich combination and not answering James' question, "Really a pumpkin?"

"Yeah." James sniggered, "Big one too."

"Huh."

"But right now, it's breakfast."

"Breakfast? So I did miss the feast." Sirius frowned, he didn't like the thought of missing a good feast, and being turned into a gourd definitely wasn't his idea of a good time.

"Yeah! So come on, Pumpkin!" James called, already heading out the door.

"Oi!"

XOXOX

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	4. Sirius' Escape

**Pureblood Dreams**

by Lilybet

**Chapter Four**

Sunday 5th November dawned with a blue sky and light wind, perfect for the Gryffindor Vs Slytherin match which was to be played that morning. James and the rest of the team had been practising hard over the past months and were up early. As usual the rest of the Gryffindor boys accompanied the team to breakfast.

Tossing in his bed Peter slept on, not even the noise of Sirius laughing cruelly at Remus' wardrobe mishap, "_Looks like Lupin thinks with his feet – Why else would he put a hat on there?", _could wake him. Peter was caught up in an elusive dream, one which drifted in and out of his mind, making him desperate to catch it, to watch it unfold.

Wonderful yet terrifying beings produced magical feasts, each table loaded with mouthwatering foods. At the head of the most elaborate table, filled with fudge icecream and succulent venison, sat Peter. Not the Peter of reality, bumbling and useless, instead he was powerful and beautiful. People looked to him for advice; he was the important one.

Sadly drifting awake, Peter held on to the feeling for long moments, smiling up at his canopy completely relaxed. Then, as his sense of the rest of the world kicked in, he realised he was alone in the room. Frowning lightly he sat up. No Sirius, no Remus, and no James. Odd. Remus normally woke him up before leaving for classes – no, wait, he thought, it's Sunday. Sunday! The match!

The Quidditch stands filled with cheering supporters. The students and teachers called for their respective teams as the doors to the changing rooms opened and the Gryffindor team flew out.

"First on the pitch is the Gryffindor team – Captain and Chaser James Potter, Chasers Allun and Evan McReedy, Beaters Willis and Fox, Keeper Taylor and Seeker Martins." came the magnified voice of Sirius who was acting as Commentator this year.

Loud cheers came from the red and gold section of the stands, more moderated encouragement sounding from the houses not directly involved in the match.

"For Slytherin we have: Captain and Beater Simon Nott, fellow Beater Avery, Chasers Mulgrove, Smith and Parkinson, Keeper Bole and Seeker Black. The referee is Professor Peavey."

"Have I missed anything?" Peter asked breathlessly, sliding into the seat next to Remus as the green section cheered.

"Not really." Remus raised his voice to be heard over the roar of the crowd as the Quaffle was hurled into the air.

"Slytherin take possession- Smith passing to Parkinson who swerves to avoid a diving bludger sent by Fox. Parkinson drops to Mulgrove who's tackled by a McReedy." Sirius launched straight into a play-by-play account of the match.

XOXOX

"We won! We won! We won, we won, we won!" sang James at the top of his lungs as the team entered the common room to loud cheers.

Congratulations and butterbeers were handed round, as Sirius Black laughed loudly at Peter, who was trying unsuccessfully to unstick himself from the wall. How the small boy had actually become stuck half-way up the wall, above the fireplace, was a mystery, but Sirius was more than happy to take advantage of the situation. Conjuring a few lopsided tomatoes he wormed his way over to where James was attempting to chat up Lily again.

"James?" he asked, holding the questionable fruit under his friend's nose.

"Tomatoes, Sirius. They're tomatoes." James replied with a note of suffering, turning his dazzling smile back on the truly suffering Lily.

"I know they're tomatoes, you lummox." sighed Sirius, taking James by the shoulder and spinning him round forcefully, "I also know _that's_ a hanging target."

"So I see." mused James.

"You wouldn't!" Lily cut in, her hand edging towards her pocket for her wand and a spell to get the unfortunate Peter down.

"Lily, you're right. I wouldn't." James agreed, "Not without this. _Targa!_"

A red, yellow and blue target appeared on the front of Peter's robes, and as he looked down to see which spell had been shot at him Peter slumped, sighing in defeat.

"Now where are those tomatoes, if you please Mr. Padfoot?"

"Right here, oh Prongéd one."

"Boys!" muttered Lily in defeat.

Peter was finally let down by a merciful seventh year, but only once he had been thoroughly covered from head to toe with the remains of rotten fruit. Lily had protested throughout, which was why Sirius had graciously given her blue hair as a sign of respect. The result of this was merely an enigmatic smile which had unnerved Sirius more than a return attack.

"Your soon-to-be-girlfriend is weird." he whispered to James between the Captain's enthusiastic action replays of the match. "Shouldn't she be attacking me in some demented way right now?"

"I think you should talk to Remus about that." James said pointedly, "You're not making any friends with the girls ignoring him like this."

"James. You were there. You heard what he said."

"Yes, and I've also heard him say that it was a stupid mistake -"

"But he meant it, I know he did." hissed Sirius.

"Look, I don't know whether he meant it or not, that's something you'll have to talk to him about. And don't say it's not happening. You'll have to talk to him sometime!" James declared, his nerves fraying slightly as he caught sight of the sun going down, "Right now I've got to clean up our smallest friend over there, and head out to an early dinner."

"Oh. The..." Sirius drew a circle in the air.

"Yeah."

"I'm..." Sirius trailed slightly, then took a deep breath and finished forcefully, "not coming."

James looked sadly over his glasses and ran a hand through his hair as Sirius gritted his teeth, "I didn't expect you were."

"Well, I'll just...you know Evans is really freaky when she stares at someone like that." Sirius shuddered, changing the topic as he caught sight of Lily's focus on him, "What does she know that I don't?"

"That is a question with an answer as long as a piece of string." James laughed, the tension broken.

"Ha. Ha. Ha. For that I shall leave you to clean off that messy rodent by yourself." Sirius sniffed, marching over to the stairs, "Adieu, mon ami, until we meet again!"

"How will I ever cope without your presence?" lamented James loudly.

"With a smile and a song." grinned Sirius, both his hands behind his back as he went backwards up the stairs, "and a tomato!"

James growled, pulling off his glasses to wipe his face clean of the tomato Sirius had thrown, only to glance up as the whole common room burst into laughter.

Sirius was standing half way up the stairs, his smile sliding from his face to be replaced by a shade of red normally unseen on him. He was also naked except for his boxers.

"Ooo, Sirius, have you been working out?" called Lily, looking like the cat that got the cream.

"It's the new diet." yelled Alice, "It's called the see food diet: he sees food and eats it!"

The wolf whistles and cat-calls from the upper years and giggles from the younger girls followed Sirius as he fled upstairs.

Leaning against the closed door Sirius shuddered in embarrassment. Never, never again was he leaving the dorm. They would have to drag him out kicking and screaming when the train rolled in for Christmas. He would transfer to another school! Anything!

He threw open his trunk, intent on at least getting some clothes on other than his thankfully clean boxers. But as he did he found a remarkable dearth of clothes. There was not one single item of clothing to be found anywhere in his trunk. Frowning he checked under his bed, then in the piles of discarded clothing on the floor. Nothing. Not one item of his clothing to be found anywhere.

He checked his trunk again, just to be sure that he hadn't been not-seeing things in his confused state of mind. There! A tiny scrap of fabric caught on the corner of his two-way mirror.

"Remus Lupin!" he growled, picking it up and noting the pair of embroidered initials, "Turn me into a Pumpkin. Steal my clothes. Well then, this means war!"

XOXOX

The clear day had become a cold night when Madam Pomfrey walked Remus down to the Whomping Willow. He had stayed in the infirmary until dinner, then had met up with her in the entrance hall so she could see him safely out of harm's way.

A hurried argument in a corridor with James had forced Remus into letting the stag and the rat into joining him that evening – something he was wary about.

Sirius had maintained a foul expression throughout the meal, but had decided that revenge was a dish best served cold. Or maybe he had just enough understanding left not to prank the werewolf right before the change.

But as he watched James and Peter vanish under the invisibility cloak in the dorm after the meal, Sirius felt ashamed again of his actions that had led to this separation. Sitting on the window-ledge curled in a blanket he prepared himself for a long and lonely vigil – a reminder of the days before the non-lycanthropes had been able to transform.

He tried to concentrate on possible ideas for return pranks – bug sandwiches, a bad smell charm, the water-in-the-ears spell that made everything sound like you were underwater – but it was no good. Everything that had happened in the past few months kept spiralling into his mind. His stupidity in letting Snape know about the Willow; the row and silence with Remus; his painful summer only softened by the weeks with the Potters; Remus' comment at breakfast, and the resulting pranks. It was no wonder that Sirius felt as if he didn't know whether he was coming or going.

Leaving his warm head against the cool glass Sirius watched as the willow stilled for a moment; James and Peter must have entered.

"I should be with them." Sirius berated himself and Remus, "Do I want to spend time with him though? Even for this? He meant what he said. Didn't he? And what if he did? Does he really think that I'm like them? Like those _Death Eaters_? I'm an idiot. He's an idiot...

"Argh!" Sirius threw off the blanket and stole a pair of jeans and a top from James before grabbing his winter cloak and striding from the dorm.

He was stopped short from his angst-ridden exit by a medium-sized prefect with flame red hair.

"Evans." he groaned, "Let me go."

"It's after curfew and," she lowered her voice, "he doesn't want you there."

"Who said that was where I was going?" Sirius hissed.

"Where else would you be going _after curfew_?" Lily emphasised.

"For a walk?" he offered, praying she responded to the desperate note in his voice.

"Not a chance." Lily crossed her arms, her wand visible in one hand.

"Please Evans, I just need to get out of here for a while. It's bad enough with that," he gestured over to the giggling girls in the corner ogling him, "But with everything else as well! I just need some head space, please, let me out. I'll be good, I promise."

Lily shook her head sadly, she knew that things had come to a head at Halloween with the attack, the comment, and the prank, but that didn't mean that she could break the rules for Sirius. It was her duty as a prefect to stop errant wandering after curfew, and that was that.

From across the common room Morrigan narrowed her eyes. It looked like Sirius was begging Lily to be let out. From their conversation in between Charms homework Morrigan had figured out that the Marauders did know Hogwarts very well indeed. In fact there had been a few hints that at one time they had mapped out the whole place – or most of it at any rate. Now seemed to be the perfect opportunity to follow up on that. After all, she thought, who better to help her in her hunt than someone who knew how to get out of trouble.

"I'm telling you, Evans, I'm not going anywhere 'dangerous'. I want to go for an actual breath of fresh air." Sirius argued, getting close to tearing his hair out, "You know, that stuff you get outside?"

Wandering up behind Lily, Morrigan curled her right hand, flicking the fingers out in a swift pattern. Suddenly Lily clutched her head, closing her eyes in pain before shaking it gently. Opening her eyes she frowned, the pain was completely gone.

"You alright there? I know I'm a pain sometimes but..." Sirius asked, wondering if she had a migraine and had to go and lie down, leaving him with an escape route.

"I'm fine. I just..." Lily poked her temple with a finger, "Never mind. Where was I? Oh yes. You are not leaving this common room after curfew."

"Um, Lily?" Morrigan cut in hesitantly, "Sorry to interrupt, but I could help overhearing. And, uh, have you seen the time?"

"What? Yes, of course, it's-" Lily stared at the clock in astonishment. She had been sure that it was after curfew, but the hands stood at half eight, no where near ten. "Oh. Er. Well then." She recovered, "Off you go then. I can't stop you going at this time. Just try not to get into trouble."

Sirius stared after her as she went back to join the other girls doing their Arithmancy homework. He shot a look at the clock, trying to figure out what was going on. It still said ten past ten, well, closer to quarter past now.

"What's going on?" he muttered.

"I suggest you don't ask. Lets just go before she realises." Morrigan thumbed towards the portrait hole she was holding open.

Climbing through, Sirius asked, "What did you do?".

"Just a little glamour over her vision. It'll wear off in a few minutes, or when she realises what's going on, so I suggest we get a move on." Morrigan said with a laugh.

"Why were you trying to escape?" Sirius said as they jogged away from the tower. He ducked into a passage behind a tapestry, Morrigan following on his heels.

"I wasn't."

Sirius made as if to ask another question, but the sound of footsteps further down the corridor forced him to focus on the task of avoiding Prefects and Professors. There was a little unused fifth floor courtyard near the Muggle Studies classrooms where conversations could be held with impunity.

The pair wandered stealthily through the dimly lit corridors, not speaking a word to each other as they passed out of the main corridors and into the quieter regions of the school. Portraits watched them go, whispering in their moonlit wake. Slipping between two pillars wound with stone fruit and vines, they appeared into the courtyard and as Sirius stared up at the bright light of the old man's face, Morrigan detached herself from his shadow. She sat down on one of the stone benches at the side, pulling her thick cloak around her.

"Right then." Sirius began, running fingers through the tangled locks of hair in front of his eyes before pushing them out of the way impatiently. "I know why I'm here, but why are you?"

"Just trying to help out a...friend." Morrigan said.

"Oh." There didn't seem to be anything that Sirius could say to that. He could hardly argue that they weren't friends, that he barely knew her; that would be rude and more like something the rest of the Blacks would do. And he, Sirius thought, was not a Black. Not officially at any rate. So the silence stretched out between them, the milky light (broken by the floating clouds) illuminating their breath in the freezing air. Finally Sirius tore his gaze from the sky to turn to the half hidden girl sitting under the wisteria, still clinging to its final leaves.

"Where were you before you came to Hogwarts?" he wondered aloud, before he meant to say anything.

"Home." she replied in a wistful tone, "The great castle of Tintagel, where nothing is as it seems, wrapped in enchantment and bound by the ancient ways. From the top of the western tower you can see nothing but the sea stretching out before you, the booming waves crashing far below. To the east the old lands of Albion lie desolate, bereft of their old magic which gave them so much life."

"It sounds cold." Sirius smiled, sitting beside her.

"I suppose it does." Morrigan nodded, "But it's not. At least it wasn't, back when my mother was there, before all this."

"What do you mean?"

"Ah. That would be telling, and I can't do that. I promised." Morrigan said simply, glancing at Sirius with a sly smile on her face.

"You promised? I don't suppose you'll tell me who and why?"

"I don't suppose I will."

Sirius shook his head, an answering smile on his face. He wrapped his borrowed clock tighter around him and got up to pace across the small courtyard, sending a glare towards the moon as he tried to warm himself up.

Morrigan just leant back against the wall, seeming not to feel the cold as she watched his course back and forth. She knew she had to ask him for help at some point, but broaching the subject suddenly seemed that much more difficult not that the opportunity was here. Taking a deep breath she gathered her courage.

"The other day," she started tentatively, "You mentioned something about a map...of Hogwarts."

"Did I?"

"Yes." Morrigan said firmly in response to Sirius' throw-away attitude.

"You must have misheard. I've never seen anything like that." Sirius said laughingly, "Though it would certainly be useful."

"I'm sure I didn't mishear." Morrigan said, getting up and meeting him in the centre of the moonlight. "You have a map of Hogwarts."

"No," he said lowly, looking her in the eye, "I don't. And I suggest you forget the idea." The Marauders' Map had been an invaluable item when the group had had it, but since it had been confiscated by Professor Flitwick they had been able to do without. When he had taken it off them, Flitwick had warned that if he heard the slightest mention of it ever again they would all be serving detention until they graduated.

"I don't forget ideas easily, but I'll be willing to trade it for something." Morrigan thought that if she couldn't have the map then the maker would do just as well, if not better. Sirius' help in locating the artefact would have to be used carefully; it wouldn't do for him to find out what exactly she was searching for. Still, it would be worth it in the end. "Something I think you'd be very willing to give."

"Really?" Sirius smirked lightly, raising an eyebrow at her tone, "And what would you like, m'dear?"

"I-"

"You are out after curfew." Professor Buskist cut her off, emerging from the shadows, "And not alone this time, I see. Detention Mr. Black, two nights. Now back to your tower, and no dawdling."

"But-!" began Sirius, automatically defending himself.

"Now!"

"Yes, sir." Sirius muttered, slouching away in the role of a reluctant student.

Sirius headed off back into the relative warmth of the closed corridor, but when he was sure that the Professor would no longer be focused on him, he turned, sneaking back and listening silently – he had an insatiable curiosity, as Prongs had pointed out endlessly.

"I thought we'd had this discussion, Miss Le Fay." warned the Professor.

"And I thought you'd had enough of following me around." Morrigan hissed venomously, startling Sirius with her tone, "Leave me – and my friends – alone! Black will not receive detention, or you will regret it."

"Dumbledore was a fool to think you would behave here. The detention stands, and this will be reported."

"Maybe if I wasn't being _followed_ the whole time I would behave as you wish! You will drop that detention, or I'll show you what Le Fays learn in childhood." warned Morrigan.

"You will cede to the rules laid upon you or you will be placed... elsewhere." Professor Buskist threatened, his voice darkening, "I need not remind you that it is only the Headmaster's word that keeps you here."

"The Headmaster's, not yours." Morrigan stepped close to the tall man, "I don't know who you-"

Sirius' attention was suddenly drawn away from the courtyard and towards the startled hiss and shinning eyes of Mrs. Norris.

"Oh, S**t!" he swore and ran for the safety of the tower.

XOXOX

A week passed and the first light snowfalls came and went. The enmity between Sirius and Remus didn't die down. Remus had ended up singing all he said for a day, and found all his books written in Latin, whilst Sirius was covered in a different coloured goo every time he walked through a doorway.

Sirius had finally managed to collar James by himself (Peter's habit of following him was a tad annoying at times) and dragged him off to a quiet corner of the castle to tell the stag about the conversation with Morrigan, and her odd relationship with the Defence Professor.

"So? What do you think?" Sirius asked.

"I think, Padfoot, that there's something very strange going on in this castle, and I think it is our duty as Marauders to discover all we can about it." declared James.

"Where do we start, oh fearless leader?" Sirius queered, trying to ignore the itching feelings from the hair that had appeared on the palms of his hands that morning.

"Well normally I'd send Remus to do research, Peter on reconnaissance and we'd distract the target through judicious use of jinxes, but..."

"Your promise to Evans, tricky, Prongs, tricky." Sirius sighed.

"That wasn't what I was thinking of and you know it." scowled James.

"No." Sirius stated bluntly.

"What?"

"No." repeated Sirius emphatically, "I'm not apologising again. Not after what he's done." he held up his hands as example.

"Fine. Then you do the research." James shot back, walking away. He had had almost enough of the discord between his friends – it was driving more than just them apart now. But he didn't know how to end it, they were both as stubborn as each other in the end.

XOXOX

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	5. Twelve Plagues of Egypt

**Dedicated to ZedPM whose reviews are cherished.**

**Pureblood Dreams**

by Lilybet

**Chapter Five**

Tongue sticking out of a corner of his mouth, James drew out the complicated diagram needed for Transfiguration after lunch. He would have completed his homework the night before, as usual, but instead had ended up in an argument about clothing. It seemed that his minimal wardrobe was now clothing three growing boys. With Remus' robes torn to shreds, and Sirius' mysteriously vanished, James was running out of spare robes. He had finally put his foot down and told the pair that they could each borrow one set of robes to go to McGonagall and tell her about the absence of clothing in Gryffindor tower.

That morning when he had woken up Sirius' robes had returned from wherever they had been, and Remus had acquired a second set from somewhere. James was just glad that he wouldn't have to wear the same set of robes again, there was a point at which even he would admit they needed changing.

Sanding the excess ink, he picked up the diagram which finished the essay and grinned. He may have to survive on two hastily snatched sandwiches till dinner, but at least he wouldn't have detention or lose points today.

"You do realise that you've missed the third arrow from the left." Remus commented over his shoulder, startling James.

"Don't do that to me!" he yelped as Remus sat down next to him, "And there's supposed to be seven arrows, and I have...six. Damn."

Picking up his quill, he fished through the book in front of him to find the diagram he was copying again.

"Why aren't you at lunch?" he asked as he added the last arrow carefully.

"_He's_ planning pranks on the third years again, and I didn't feel like hanging round." Remus explained, frowning at his Transfiguration textbook which was still in Latin.

"You do realise that things have been fairly prank-quiet for the rest of the school this year." James commented, finishing the line with a flourish. He packed his things away, leaving the essay till last to give it a chance to dry. As he did he watched the slightly guilty look on Remus' face vanish under a blanket of anger.

"Why don't you guys just give it up? You'll never out-prank each other." he questioned, adding quietly, "Not without my help."

"It's not about the pranks." Remus said, standing as the bell went for afternoon classes, "It's about..."

"Revenge." stated James, knowing the word would never cross his friend's lips, as he joined him walking towards class.

"What? No. Not that." Remus protested.

"Oh, it is, and you know it. He hurt you, so you hurt him, so he pranked you, so you pranked him. And now you're locked into a never ending cycle of more and more pitiful pranks until someone saves you." James sighed, leaning against the wall outside Transfiguration.

"Someone like you, you mean." Remus smiled, "Wouldn't that cause a few problems with a certain deal?"

"What's this? Are you planning on reneging on our pact, Potter?" Lily asked, overhearing their conversation from where she was standing behind the boys in the queue to get into the classroom, a note of glee in her voice and a hopeful look on her face.

"I would never do that to you, Lily. Denying you the opportunity of a date with yours truly, why that would be cruel." James said, feigning shock at the thought, "Though you could save yourself the heartache and just go out with me now."

"Not a chance!" Lily snorted, her expression falling from hopeful to indignant. She turned away form the boys, muttering an inaudible aside to Morrigan where she stood with an advanced text floating open in front of her.

Morrigan looked up, glancing over her book to where James was now standing staring at Lily's hair, his head leaned against the wall. She gave a small laugh and turned to Lily, nodding at the comment in agreement. James wondered what his lovely lady had said about him, slipping into dreaming about their date next year when he would be the perfect gentleman and she would finally see what an amazing guy he really was.

The nudge from Remus alerted him to the start of the lesson, and he walked into the classroom, essay held up for McGonagall to collect, still lost in his daydreams. Transfiguration was his strong suit, which gave him more time to fantasise. He pulled out his wand and caught the first few words of Professor McGonagall's lecture, enough to let him know that the snail which would appear on his desk in a moment needed to end up as a mouse by the end of the lesson.

He sighed, his mind focusing back on the way Lily's hair looked in the sunlight, like molten fire...

XOXOX

Christmas was just around the corner, and Sirius was determined to fit in one last giant prank before his target vanished for two weeks. He had it all planned out, he just needed a little help, but his preferred choice was being annoyingly stubborn.

"Come on, Prongs, just one won't hurt." pleaded Sirius, making a puppy-dog face at his friend as he held out the parchment.

"No, no, no!" James replied negatively, crossing his arms, "That's like Wormtail and 'just one biscuit'. It's never 'just one' because it always turns into 'just one more'!"

"But, Prongs..." Sirius whined.

"No. Get Wormtail to help you. I'm not putting the chance of being Head Boy and a date with the glorious Miss Evans on the line, Padfoot." James sighed, "Besides which, I don't want to prank Remus. I think you two have done enough damage to each other."

"Fine, then." Sirius sulked, "I guess I'll go find Peter." He walked out of the common room, leaving James to turn back to his homework.

Across the room Lily tapped her quill on her parchment, a thoughtful look on her face.

When she had agreed to the deal with Potter at the end of last year, she had thought that he would last a couple of weeks, maybe a month, into sixth year before being overcome by his pranking urge. But it was not only a week away from the Christmas holidays and there was still no sign that Potter was going to renege on the deal.

Lily sighed to herself - even though James had changed over the last few months, showing a responsibility and understanding which had previously passed him by, she still didn't really want to go on a single date with him. His head may have been deflated by the argument between his best friends, but James Potter was still far too arrogant for her tastes.

She sighed deeply again, her eyes fixed on the boy. He had managed to put a big inky mark on his forehead, whilst his furrowed brow and restless wriggling betrayed his struggle with his homework.

"You're staring again." came a quiet comment over her shoulder.

Lily looked round, slightly startled, as Alice slipped into the chair next to her and dumped her parchment, quills and ink on the table.

"I am not staring." Lily protested.

"I did it too, with Frank, before we started going out." Alice added absently, arranging her things.

"I am not interested in James Potter." Lily hissed, turning forcefully back to her work.

"Just saying..."

XOXOX

Shuffling the scraps of parchment again, Peter tried to ignore the letter in his pocket. It had arrived in the morning, flown in by the family owl, and thus far he had been too nervous to open it. The seal of crossed corn on a chevron was that of his older brother, ten years his senior, who he had rarely had contact with.

The last time Mark had written to Peter was when he had started Hogwarts, warning him not to trust his house blindly and to find those of greatest power for they would 'lead him to greatness'. Peter had taken his advice to heart, as he always did when it came to Mark Pettigrew, and found James and Sirius. They had certainly led him to do great things; he would never have become an Animagus without them.

Yet Mark hadn't written to him in so long that Peter was nervous about what his brother had to say.

Carefully, Peter placed the scraps of parchment along the table edge; they showed crudely drawn wand movements and were his way of memorising the more complex spells.

"Turn first," he muttered, placing the relevant card at the start, "Then a swish..."

The next card went down.

"Third a...slash? Or was it a flick? Come on Peter, you know this. Think!"

The door banged open, ricocheting off the wall, to reveal the windswept form of Sirius. "Peter! There you are. I've been looking for you everywhere."

Peter sighed mentally, there was no chance of doing anything now. The letter and school work would both have to wait. Collecting up the scraps of parchment he half listened to Sirius' demands and ideas for pranking Remus, making noises of assent at appropriate moments.

"So I'll meet you outside the library in half an hour, and don't forget the bandages." Sirius finished, waving a finger at Peter before racing back out of the room.

Peter looked up wildly, half starting an exclamation before realising it was too late. Where was he supposed to get bandages, and why were they needed? A moment of panic froze his system before he recalled all the other times Padfoot or Prongs had sent him on a wild mission for some random object. Out of all the Marauders, he was the go-to guy; the one who could find anything, even if it took blackmail and bribery to get it.

The letter poked him in the side again, reminding him that he needed to read it. Stalling in his pursuit of Sirius' scheme he pulled out the sealed parchment and stared at it. Then, with a quick decisive motion, he slid his finger under the deal and pried it open.

_"Dear brother, _

_Firstly, let me apologise for my lack of communication for the past six years. I have been working under the Illyrian Masters of Dark Lore in the Albanian forests, where there is no communication allowed. I have just returned to England and have caught up with our parents. _

_"They tell me that you are doing moderately well at Hogwarts, but have made some very good friends in your house. I do not know if you took the last advice I gave you about seeking out the powerful, but from what I understand you have placed too much faith in the members of your house._

_"I must tell you, brother, that the coming years are ones in which being loyal to those with courage is not the best choice. I strongly advise you to seek out new allies with those who use cunning as their strength and are driven by ambition. _

_"When you arrive home for Christmas next week I hope to be able to find the time to talk further about this and other matters relating to your future in the wizarding world._

_"With greatest affection, Mark Pettigrew."_

XOXOX

Sirius sat in the courtyard next to the library at an angle to the window into a corner of the book-filled room. From there he could see into the library, but anyone looking out would only see the series of shadows cast by the overhanging gargoyles.

Remus was sat at the table by the window, some sixth year Ravenclaws and Beatrice Carr, who Sirius had dated in fourth year, accompanying him. Sirius watched closely as the three ink pots were shoved around the table to see which one Remus was consistently using.

Since there was a policy of no drinks allowed in the library the ink was going to be his liquid of choice for the start of his payback.

It had taken Sirius three days to get rid of the smell of the thestral pen which he had been forced to clean out as part of the Hercules' curse, and he was certain he'd found the perfect retaliation. He checked his watch for the third time in five minutes; Peter was late, and without him the plan would be a washout. Another check of the box beside him occupied Sirius' attention for a few seconds, then it was time to check his watch again; patience was not Sirius' strong suit.

XOXOX

Peter ran through the corridors, bandages trailing behind him as he spirited away from the sound of an irate Madam Pomfrey. In the half hour that Sirius had given him to get hold of the white wraps he had managed to construct a fiendish plot to not get caught, and have it fail.

His plan had been very simple and based on a few premises:

Bandages are in the infirmary

Madam Pomfrey is in the infirmary

Madam Pomfrey will not give me bandages

Conclusion: Remove Madam Pomfrey from the infirmary.

Thus the plan involved a willing third year, a nasty jinx, a heavy object, and lots of loud screaming.

Unfortunately Peter had overestimated the time it would take for the matron to return to her domain.

Which was why he was panting his way doggedly through the corridor desperately taking as many shortcuts as he could to the relative safety of Padfoot's company.

"I'm...here...with bandages." he puffed, entering the open courtyard.

"At last!" Sirius appeared from the shadows, "Let's get you wrapped up and then into position. I think he might leave soon."

"Huh? What?" Peter asked as the bandages were peeled off him and taken out of his arms, only to find himself being wrapped from the feet upwards in the linen, "Why am I being mummified again?" he asked beseechingly.

"You got it in one!" grinned Sirius, "Mummy thou art! Or will be once I'm done...stop wriggling will you!"

"I can't help it, you're tickling me!" squirmed Wormtail.

"If you stop moving I won't tickle you...now hold still!"

"Why am I a Mummy?" Peter sputtered as the bandages covered his mouth for a moment.

"Because Lupin cursed me with the Hercules jinx, and after wrestling with the mutated giant squid, cleaning out the thestral pens, and stealing McGonagall's hat, I want to return the favour." Sirius grinned even more manically, "We can't have the Ten Plagues of Egypt without a Mummy, can we?"

"Mph." replied Peter, now completely wrapped in linen bandages from head to toe.

Sirius had done a good job, with most of the trailing ends tied together or trapped beneath the wrappings. Peter's hands were mittens, with his eyes the only part of him visible, along with the end of his tie randomly poking out.

"You alright in there? ... Good...Now off you do, hide out in the library, and don't come out until after the flies."

"Mfphs?"

"Yes, flies. Go!" Sirius ordered, turning back to the window where he could still see Remus doing his homework. He cackled lightly to himself before whispering the first phrase of the complex Hebrew spell.

XOXOX

Dipping his quill into the ink bottle again Remus' nose twitched. For a moment he ignored the smell, shrugging it off as a product of his imagination, but as he wrote the smell didn't go away. Instead it grew stronger until he had to admit what he was scenting.

"Did somebody cut themselves?" he asked mildly, "I thought I heard someone yelp..."

A chorus of noes almost had him doubting his senses again, but when he looked down at his parchment he realised that his sense of smell was fine; it was his ink which was not. Ink didn't usually clot, nor was it ever that shade of red.

His eyes widened as he was confronted with fresh blood, his heart rate increasing as the wolf inside reared its head hoping for wounded prey. Remus mentally squashed the sharp desire to hunt, to rip and tear flesh from bone; the moon was barely more than a sliver, now was not a time when the animal within could win.

Taking a couple of deep breaths Remus forced himself to relax and analyse the situation. Ink did not turn into blood without cause. Pulling out his wand he murmured a few technical spells at the mutated bottle, bent on discovering the cause behind the effect.

It was at this point that he felt something under the table move over his foot. Then Beatrice, at the other end of the table, cried out and started laughing.

Remus looked over; she was pointing at the space between the nearby bookcases. It was filled from end to end with soft brown things, jumping and squirming their way across the floor and each other. Remus glanced under the table, leaning down to pick up the itinerant thing that had wandered over his foot.

It was a chocolate frog.

XOXOX

Outside the window Sirius fought to hold in his laughter at the supremely puzzled expression on Remus' face. It rivalled the one on Wormtail's the day...well, any day really.

XOXOX

As Remus debated whether to eat the frog now or save it for later, a low buzzing reached his ears. Having heightened senses not only could the werewolf smell blood and other odours more sharply, but his hearing was also at least four times better than an average human's. So, as he was searching for the source of the sound everyone else was still exulting over the unexpected feast of chocolate frogs.

"What's all this racket? Be quiet this instant!" Madam Pince hissed, turning up on the scene, "Argh! What are those? Food! Food in the library! Mr. Filch! Mr Filch!" She ran off rather quickly, being chased by a couple of enthusiastic frogs and a lot of laughter.

The buzzing grew louder in Remus' ears, reaching a crescendo as a haze of insects swarmed through the room to the disgust of all library-goers. People grabbed their books and papers and made a run for it – the Ravenclaws and Remus amongst them.

Before Remus had gone more than two shelves a figure stepped out in front of him. Hidden by nasty biting insects and thousands of flies, the figure was a dark shape before him, advancing with a low moan.

Remus swiped the swirling, clogging insects from his vision, bag and books held in one arm, wand in his other hand. Without daring to open his mouth he tried to convey the message 'Get out of my way!' apparently unsuccessfully since the strange apparition kept moving sightlessly towards him.

Silently he cast a repelling charm followed by a bubble-head charm and the crowding gnats dispersed around him, leaving the figure and himself staring at each other. Wrapped in trailing bandages from head to toe the menace was like something out of a Hammer Horror film, or a tale worthy of Shelley.

Unintentionally Remus took a pace backwards and slipped as his foot landed on a squashed frog. With a slow motion feeling he fell back, his books and papers flying upwards, the Mummy lurching forwards as if to catch him. He fell with a painful bump, his wand still clutched in his hand.

For long seconds Remus lay on the ground staring up at the vaulted ceiling, randomly taking note that there were founders' and other old family shields adorning the high stone arches.

Then the swarm of locusts arrived.

Descending out of nowhere they rapidly covered every available surface, eating up the chocolate frogs as they went. Remus decided enough was enough and, abandoning his bag, fled the library, the Mummy hot on his heels.

"Memus!" the Mummy mumbled as they neared the closed double doors, "Memus, mait!"

Remus grabbed hold of one of the huge door handles, ignoring the incomprehensible noises from the bandaged figure. But as he did the room plunged into blackness, the sunlight vanishing along with the remaining candles.

There was a short mental space in which Remus took stock of his situation.

He was trapped, since the door was refusing to open however hard he tried.

So...trapped in a room filled with biting gnats, flies, locusts, squashed and/or eaten chocolate frogs, a Mummy, and it was pitch black.

It was at this point that Remus Lupin decided screaming was a very sound option.

So he did.

Twice.

Admittedly the second time was because the Mummy had found him in the dark and placed a bandaged hand on his shoulder. It still wasn't his finest hour.

Which was precisely when the lights came back on, the buzzing and chirruping insects vanished and the door opened.

"Ah, ze children of ze night, vat beautiful music zey make." Sirius pronounced in a fake Transylvanian accent.

"You!" Remus accused.

"Me." agreed Sirius, grinned widely, "Though only on Thursdays. Come on Mummy-worm, let's scarper before he thinks of a better comeback!"

"SIRIUS BLACK!"

Sirius' barking laughter could be heard clearly as he bounded away down the corridor, Peter stumbling after him trying not to trip on his now trailing bandages.

XOXOX

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	6. Leprechaun

**Pureblood Dreams**

by Lilybet

Chapter Six

"It's _not_ that I don't like her, Lily. It's...it's..well, she's just distant, that's all." Beatrice Carr said as she packed.

"She's not distant. You just have to get to know her." defended Lily from where she was sitting on the floor of the room, wrapping presents.

"And that's an easy task." retorted Beatrice, her strident tones covering her anxiety, "You've got to admit that she's cold towards pretty much everyone except you and Sirius."

"Ooo, you don't think she's got a crush on him do you?" Alice giggled, lying on her bed, her head in _Witch Weekly_.

"No, I don't. And she's not cold, she just finds it hard to relate to other people. You'd be exactly the same if you'd been home-schooled your whole life, never having any friends." Lily said, a note of understanding in her voice for her new friend.

"I wouldn't want to be friends with her." muttered Beatrice, folding clothes into her trunk, "Is this yours?"

"No, it's mine." Alice said, glancing up at the red top, "Ten across, ten letters, third letter 'p', last letter 'n'. 'It's lucky to be small'."

"Leprechaun." Lily said, trying to find the end of the sellotape, "What's wrong with Morrigan anyway? She's really funny, and she knows all kinds of ancient spells."

"That's why you like her, Lily, she knows stuff and you're a sponge." Alice snorted, writing the answer into the crossword.

"I am not a sponge!"

"Look, I'm just glad I'm not staying for Christmas, alright." Beatrice said huffily, hoping that the mention of the holiday would divert the conversation.

"I wish I could stay for Christmas." mourned Lily, thinking of the reception she was likely to get from her sister, "Alice, if you're getting ink on my bed I'll tell Frank about you-know-what."

"I'm using a pencil!" cried Alice, as Beatrice sat down on the edge of her trunk and fiddled with the edge of a shawl.

"Lily, you know I'd offer my place for Christmas..." Beatrice trailed off. Out of all the girls she had the largest home; a five bedroomed, two living-roomed, practically-a-mansion, place in Westhornton, Derbyshire. She also had the most inflexible parents. While Lily's parents were Muggles, they accepted Magic with cautious grace. Alice's folks loved to have other witches to stay with their daughter, only with a small house it was a tight squeeze when anyone did visit. Beatrice's parents...she sighed, if only they accepted that non-Purebloods were people. She had.

"It's alright. I don't mind really, I just like to complain about it." smiled Lily.

"A sponge that complains." mused Alice, tapping her pencil against the crossword.

Lily chose to ignore the comment saying, "Did you get back to sleep alright last night, B?"

"Eventually." nodded Beatrice, "Those dreams are getting really weird. Eerie music, just out-of-sight dancing folk... I just wish I could get that melody out of my head."

"I think it's becoming infectious." Alice said, "I swear I had a similar dream a couple of nights ago. I bet it's some kind of sign."

"A sign?" scoffed Lily, "A sign of what? That you should beware music? Hmm, maybe you should stay away from Christmas carols."

XOXOX

While the girls debated Christmas carols, Sirius was heading back from the kitchens. He was hopping on one foot as he tried to remove the oversized red floppy shoes which had appeared on his feet as soon as he touched the painting entrance. The bells on his hat jangled each time he moved, setting up a cheerful counterpoint to his grumbling.

"Thinks I'm a clown does he? A bit of a joker? I'll show _him_ a joke!"

Briefly he wondered if Remus was nearby, laughing at the baggy-trousered outfit which he found himself in, and whether he'd spot him quickly enough to be able to get in a few good spells before the lupine boy outran him.

"Sirius? What _are_ you wearing? April fools isn't for another four months." Morrigan laughed, enjoying the scene as Sirius scowled at her. She had searched two floors of the castle before finding him so near to Slytherin territory. She wanted to have another chance to talk to him before everyone vanished for Christmas, and now seemed as good a time as any.

"I know that." Sirius replied snidely, "Clearly Remus doesn't, though. Now, are you going to help me or are you going to stand there?" He held out his arms so that she could get a full view of his clown suit, complete with red nose and multicoloured wig.

Morrigan burst out into full laughter at the sight, the mournful look on his face contrasted perfectly with the outfit.

"Thanks." he said insincerely.

"Sorry." she giggled, "But you have to see how you look." A wave of her wand produced a mirror and Sirius took a good hard look at himself, and slowly a smile appeared on his face as well. Soon they were both laughing, the mirror dissolving into thin air.

"Want a suggestion?" Morrigan asked, as the laughter eased off.

"Go on." he said guardedly.

"Confuse Remus by keeping it, and going into the common room in character. Juggling would work."

"Hmm. You have an idea there."

"I have another." she said carefully, walking beside Sirius as he headed out of the dungeons, trying to juggle three hastily conjured apples (though they looked more like pears than apples).

"Oh?" Sirius said, dropping his apple again.

"I won't be going home for Christmas. So if you wanted to give me a present...say...a map...now would be a good time."

"Why would you need a map of Britain?" Sirius said, faking confusion.

"You're being deliberately obtuse."

"He is Sirius Black. It's in his nature." came a sneering voice out of the shadows. Stepping into the light at the bottom of the stairs, Snape fought not to burst out laughing at the idiotic garb Black was wearing.

"At least I'm not a greasy git." Sirius bit back, pulling his wand from somewhere.

Snape pointedly ignored him, though he slipped his wand into his hand just in case, and turned to Morrigan. "I don't think we've been introduced. I am Severus Snape of Slytherin."

"Pleasure." murmured Le Fay.

"I know who you are, Snivellus, and I know you're going to get out of our way. Now." growled Sirius.

The Slytherin continued to ignore him, though a look of anger reflected in his eyes. He remembered all too vividly what had been done to him, and the fact that Black had gotten away with it. If it took the rest of his life he would see Black pay. "I would apologise for this...dunderhead, but I'm afraid it would be useless. He'll always be a bullying imbecile who prefers to show off rather than think things through."

Sirius blanched slightly at the words, the fact that Snape was the only person outside Gryffindor who knew why he and Remus were fighting had slipped his mind. The damage that Snape could do if he told anyone was extensive, and Sirius didn't trust the promise Snape had made to Dumbledore. He wouldn't put it past the boy to hand over the knowledge at the first opportunity that gave him an advantage.

"What's wrong, _Black_?" Snape smirked, "Cat got your tongue?"

"Out of my way." Sirius said flatly, anger starting to tunnel his vision as he envisioned a world without Snape.

"Gladly. I wouldn't want to stop you on your way to the circus. So sorry, I meant Gryffindor." Snape said insincerely, "Though they are remarkably similar, wouldn't you say, Le Fay?"

Morrigan, whose attention had been flicking between the two anxiously, suppressed the twitch at the corner of her lips. Snape's words had brought to her mind the Quidditch celebrations, where the tower had been so boisterous that she had escaped upstairs. A circus was the right word for Gryffindor at times.

Her half-smile was not unnoticed by Snape, who walked towards the Gryffindors, hissing as he passed, "'til next time, Black."

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	7. Christmas

_A/N: Thought I'd be kind and give you a bit more. That last chapter was rather short wasn't it? Plus it's Christmas! Well, it is in this chapter..._

**Pureblood Dreams**

by Lilybet

**Chapter Seven**

Never was Hogwarts more glad of a holiday than when Christmas arrived a few days later. Even though James Potter had steadfastly refused to help with a single prank, much to Lily's discomfort, the school had suffered at the hands of the pranksters enough for one term.

In the war between Remus and Sirius students, teachers, and even a few ghosts had been caught in the crossfire. All of which had resulted in a two day special course in reversing jinxes and hexes, specially run by Professor Buskist and Madam Pomfrey.

The medi-witch had also refused to treat either offending party for anything 'non-life threatening', leaving Remus still sporting a multitude of gnat bites and Sirius with dashing red and green hair on the train journey home.

Each of the boys also had a list of detentions as long as their arms with almost every Professor in the castle to complete when they returned.

Finally though, Christmas _had_ arrived, and the castle emptied of all but a handful of students. Sirius was headed for his new home at the Potters', Peter for a reunion with his estranged brother. Remus, James, Alice, Lily, Morrigan...all headed for their respective homes. In fact the only sixth year who wasn't going home for Christmas was Severus Snape.

This was partially due to the fact that Severus did not like being around his father during celebrations, and partially due to an experiment he was in the middle of completing.

Over the last few months Severus had been delving further and further into spell construction in the Dark Arts. Taking both Arithmancy and Charms, along with his already considerable knowledge of Dark Arts, Severus was well on his way to completing a tricky little spell which would do a lot of damage.

Striding into the abandoned attic room above the east wing of the castle, Severus mused once again on the irony of it being safer for him to play with the Dark Arts under Dumbledore's roof than it was to do it at home. Even ignoring the under-age restrictions on magic, doing any magic in the Snape household was sure to earn Severus a more immediate and painful punishment than any the Light-loving headmaster could devise.

On the Georgian table tucked under the sloping eaves was a wire cage. Severus pulled out the packing crate he had been using as a chair, throwing his robes in a dusty heap on the floor. The eaves were always the warmest, and most magically charged, place since both heat and magic had a tendency to rise; a good place for experimenting because it required less internal magic to achieve an effect.

Severus placed his wand on the table and drew the cage towards him, much to the consternation of its sleeping occupants. He clicked open the latch and reached inside to snag one of the small white mice. Holding it firmly in one hand he locked the cage back up, and then pushed it back to its usual resting place.

Severus picked up his wand and shook back his lank hair. Then he put the mouse on the table, "_Stupefy._" he cast lazily. It froze into a statue – a parody of mousey life – not even its little pink nose was twitching.

"_Sectumsempra._" Severus said clearly, slashing his wand over the innocent creature.

XOXOX

"Give it back, you thief!" yelled James, tumbling down the last few stairs after Sirius.

"Never!" declared the fleeing boy.

"If you don't give it back, I'll, I'll..."

"You'll what, sweet-hogger?" jeered Sirius, taking a stand in the hallway outside the Dining room.

"Curse you in your sleep!" finished James defiantly.

"HA!" Sirius laughed, opening his hand to reveal two Ice Mice, "That would be breaking your word to the lovely Lily."

"What she doesn't know..." James said ominously.

Sirius opened his mouth, tipped his head back and dropped the mice, one after the other, inside. Smugly he made happy noises of contentment as he devoured the sweet confectionery, enjoying the look on James' face as he did.

"Be prepared to spend tomorrow feeling very, very stupid." the mouse-deprived boy threatened before stalking off.

XOXOX

Peter shifted nervously again in his overstuffed armchair, waiting for the doorbell to ring and his brother to arrive. He had been home for several days now, but so far Mark had been 'otherwise engaged' in something which his father in particular seemed very proud of. Yesterday, Mark had sent a quickly penned missive letting Peter know that today was the day that they would be reunited.

Without realising it, Peter slipped another hard-boiled sweet into his mouth, sucking furiously as he struggled to contain his nerves. The ringing doorbell made him swallow convulsively, nearly choking as he did. Coughing and spluttering, Peter pounded himself on the chest, only vaguely hearing his mother welcome her son.

"Hello Peter." Mark said as he entered the Receiving room.

"H-hello Mark." replied Peter hoarsely.

"You've grown." the elder brother said jovially, taking a seat, "How have you been?"

Stuttering a reply Peter took in his brother's appearance. Gone was the stocky, slightly overweight nineteen-year-old that Peter recalled; now his brother was built like a Beater with big muscles and a deep voice. Dressed in deep blood-red robes, a crescent symbol picked out in silver on the breast, the black-haired man looked capable of taking out a threat without even drawing his wand.

Peter shuddered slightly with fear as Mark casually mentioned his Dark training, though at the same time the deep thrill of being so close to someone so clearly powerful was undeniable.

The first half hour or so was spent exchanging pleasant stories and polite formalities as they sipped on tea brought by their mother. A silence fell as the last of the beverages were finished; Peter shifted slightly, still faintly nervous.

"Have you given much thought to what you plan on doing after finishing Hogwarts?" Mark began.

"Erm, not really." Peter muttered, "Maybe a job in the Ministry..."

"The Ministry." Mark scowled, "Do you agree with their policies? Do you like not being able to perform magic outside of Hogwarts?"

"N-no." Peter stuttered, but Mark wasn't really listening.

"With all their rules telling us what we can and can't do it's incredible that anything gets done at all. They're stifling magical growth with their regulations over what can and cannot be taught, what is 'safe' for people to know, to use. How long will it be before they want to tell us what to think?

"When I was out in Albania there were no restrictions on type of spell – Dark, Light, it didn't matter. The only thing that did was power. Peter, listen to me, if the Ministry gets its way we'll all end up as magically weak as Mudbloods. We must show them that it no longer matters what rules they put in place, the strongest _will_ overcome. You understand?"

"I – er – don't know." Peter said, with an uncomfortable feeling that he was being herded into a corner, "I – I know a M-Muggleborn and she doesn't seem weak." he offered, latching onto something he _could_ understand.

"Tricks. Slight of hand and distractions. There's only one thing that will count soon, Peter, and that's blood."

XOXOX

There was a pile of presents around the foot of the very ordinary Christmas tree in the Evans' house. They had been there since the night before, and Lily had been restraining herself from going and finding out which were hers and which were Petunia's.

As soon as the light had woken her this Christmas morning Lily had been out of bed and jumping down the stairs, banging on her sister's door as she went.

"Christmas!" she yelled happily.

"Good morning, dear." her mother greeted her; she always seemed to be up before Lily no matter how early Lily got up.

"Merry Christmas, Mum." Lily kissed her mother on the cheek, snagging some toast before heading to the living room. Crawling behind the tree, toast in mouth, Lily switched on the lights.

"Do you know what you look like?" Petunia sniffed as Lily emerged on all fours.

Delicately, Lily took the toast out of her mouth and gave her sister a dazzling smile, "Merry Christmas to you too, Petunia."

"Hmph." said Petunia, stalking off to the kitchen to get her breakfast.

Lily just shrugged, and started in on her toast again, keeping one hand free to turn over the labels on the presents.

_Mum, Mum & Dad, Petunia, Petunia, Me, Dad, Me from Alice, Me from Beatrice, Petunia, Mum, Me from..._

Lily read the label again, not quite believing her eyes.

"To Lily Evans, have a great Christmas, James Potter."

"Who's James Potter?" Petunia asked from over her shoulder, a bowl of cereal in one hand.

"Um." Lily prevaricated, blushing lightly.

"Someone at that freak school of yours, no doubt." Petunia hissed, clearly not feeling the Christmas spirit.

"Yes. He is." Lily said stridently, picking up the present possessively.

"Your boyfriend?" Petunia continued snidely, sounding very jealous of even the possibility of her sister having a boyfriend.

"No!" Lily yelped quickly, maybe a little too quickly, "He is not my boyfriend. I don't have a boyfriend, and even if I did it wouldn't be James Potter."

"Then why are you holding his gift so tightly?" Petunia prodded nastily.

"Girls? Is everything alright?" said their mother, poking her head round the door, "We'll be opening presents once your father's down."

"Okay." Petunia acknowledged.

"Thanks, Mum." Lily chorused, stuffing the last of her toast in her mouth and bounding back upstairs to throw on her dressing gown.

After lunch and a walk in the cold but sunny afternoon Lily tucked herself into the corner of the living room, curled up with a pile of new books beside her. In her hands was the still unopened present from James which she had conveniently left upstairs earlier.

It was a box about three inches (7.5cm) square, wrapped in red paper with a gold bow on top, the label tucked under the bow. How the Marauder had managed to get it to her house when she was fairly certain that he didn't know where she lived, was a question that she didn't really want to ponder.

Lily shook the gift lightly, but there was no rattling or rustling from inside. She liked to hope that there wasn't a prank inside, that it was a genuine Christmas present, but it was from _James Potter_.

Deciding to risk it, Lily pulled off the bow and ripped the paper away to reveal...a box. There were no identifying marks or indications of what might be inside, and Lily wondered what _exactly_ James had got her. Carefully she found the side that opened and prised the two halves apart. Inside, on a bed of deep blue satin, lay a beautiful silver bracelet.

Lily gasped in delight and astonishment, she had never seen something so delicately beautiful. With tiny silver links between gem-studded crosses, the bracelet shimmered even in the electric lights of the Christmas tree. Lily lifted it out, studying the crosses in more detail, being very gentle with the filigree work as she did. Each of the four Maltese crosses bore a different coloured gem, all of which she was sure were the genuine article – emerald, ruby, sapphire, and a tiny diamond.

Undoing the clasp, Lily laid the bracelet over her wrist admiring the beauty of the piece against her skin. Then she sadly placed the fine jewellery back into its soft case and closed the lid. There was no way she could possibly accept such an expensive gift from James, she would have to return it. It was a shame really, it was so gorgeous...

XOXOX

"I'm stuffed." Sirius groaned, sinking into a comfy chair.

"After eating half the turkey, I'm not surprised." James' dad teased good-naturedly.

"It wasn't half the turkey!" protested Sirius.

"Sure it was, and James ate the other half." Maria Potter agreed with her husband, joining them in the sitting room.

"Hey!" James scowled from where he was sitting between the fire and the Christmas tree with accompanying presents.

"Hay is for horses." Harold commented, accepting the glass of sherry from Maria.

James just groaned and threw a small present at his father, who deftly caught it and read the label before passing it on to Sirius.

"This one's for you, Sirius." he said.

"Uh...Argh...Ah. Thanks." Sirius moaned, having almost dropped it twice before finally catching it.

"Well, go on then, Padfoot. Open it!" exhorted James, "Who's it from, anyway?"

Sirius turned the label the right way up and raised his eyebrows before smiling cheekily, "It's from you, you pillock."

"Oops."

"Language."

"Sorry. I meant: It's from you, you individual with a memory like a goldfish who's been Memory Charmed."

"Creative." nodded Harold.

Quickly Sirius stripped the fluorescent paper from the box, pulling out a ball about fist-sized. He squeezed it lightly as a grey mist filled the centre.

"A Remembrall. Thanks, James. Though _you_ might need this if your memory doesn't recover!" Sirius teased.

"Says the guy who's wearing odd socks." returned James, throwing another present at his father.

"Careful," warned Maria, "There are some breakable presents under there."

"So you did get that mirror for James to learn how to flatten his hair." Harold sighed gratefully, with a twinkle in his eye.

James' hand went automatically to his untameable hair as he scowled as his father, "Just open your present, Dad."

"From Merris and Samuel." Harold read off the label, "It's a...box of Filibuster's Indoor Rockets! Brilliant!"

"Oh no!" said Maria dramatically, laying a hand across her forehead, "I see broken vases in my future."

"Maybe this will help." said James, placing his present to his mother in her lap.

The paper went floating to the ground as Maria opened her Christmas gift. "Ooo, the new edition of Mrs Bucket's _Spells for Messy People_. Thanks, sweetie."

"Don't mention it." said James with a smile, "No, really, don't. If my friends find out I bought a household spell book." he mock-shuddered at the thought.

"Too late!" said Sirius gleefully, snapping a shot of mother, son and book with his new camera.

"Nooo!" cried James, leaping up and tackling Sirius, "Give that here, you dastardly mongrel!"

"Never!" declared Sirius, leaning precariously backwards as he struggled to keep the picture out of his friend's grasp, "I shall pin it up on the notice board for all to see!"

"Alternatively the pair of you could open this large box that seems to be address to a Mr Padfoot and a Mr Prongs." Harold mentioned calmly.

James and Sirius shared a look, silently agreeing to continue their argument later, before launching themselves at the pile of presents.

"Ah, Christmas, the only time of year when everyone can act like kids." smiled Maria, slipping an arm round her husband and sharing a kiss.

"Does that mean I can dive in there too?"

"Oh, go on then."

"Whoo!"

XOXOX

**Did thou enjoyest? Then let me know. Review.**


	8. Severus Snape

A/N: Just to warn you the next chapter might be a little while in coming. But after that things will be back on target. Once a week, every week. LB

**Pureblood Dreams**

by Lilybet

**Chapter Eight**

It was nearly midnight, but there was more than one person still out of bed as Severus made his way back down from the attic room.

Severus had spotted Le Fay reading by night in several places around the castle as he had made his way back to the dorm after curfew; carefully avoiding Professor Buskist who was her near-constant watchman. Always Morrigan Le Fay was to be found with her head in some obscure text, the titles of which Severus had never seen in Hogwarts Library.

This night, as storm clouds threatened overhead, Le Fay was engrossed in a text so large that she had to balance it on both legs. Curled under the archway leading into the abandoned duelling room she blended perfectly with the statues and carvings, only the turn of a page alerting any watchers to her presence.

Snape had been attempting to avoid a pair of Hufflepuff prefects as he made his way down from one of the two east wing towers. Glimpsing the movement of Le Fay he had paused, the questions he had concerning the girl rising in his mind once more. After their meeting in the dungeons Severus had wondered exactly how much of a Gryffindor she truly was.

"Are you planning on standing there all night?" asked Le Fay softly, startling Severus from his thoughts.

He had believed that he was perfectly hidden in the shadows of the stairwell, and he pondered as he stepped forth how many Slytherin characteristics the witch had hiding beneath the surface.

"I did not wish to disturb your reading." Severus replied silkily.

"It is of little concern," Le Fay said, closing the tome, "I was coming to the conclusion that there was nothing of interest in here anyway."

"Ah." hesitated Severus, "May I join you?"

"Naturally."

The Slytherin folded himself gracefully to the floor, his robes puddling out around his thin body. He sat with his back against the other side of the archway, facing Morrigan and able to keep an eye on the corridor and stairwell for diligent prefects.

"May I enquire as to what keeps you so far from the dungeons at this late hour, Severus Snape of Slytherin?" Morrigan said, her voice low but audible.

"I could ask you the same about the circus." smirked Severus, referring to the Gryffindor sanctuary.

"Touché." came the answer, "That was quite a display of...house rivalry? that I saw before Christmas. Are you like that with all Gryffindors, or just Sirius?"

"The 'Marauders' and I have a...history. But Black," Severus paused, his hands clenching into fists, "Deserves whatever he gets."

Morrigan raised her eyebrows at the underlying anger in his voice, she hadn't heard of any particular nasty prank from Sirius that would cause that amount of hatred. Then again, six years of pranks... "I have to say, I'm not overly enamoured of their pranks." she said, "It all seems a bit...cruel. I mean, if you've got the intelligence to think up things like that why waste it bullying others?"

"And here I thought everyone from Gryffindor _loved_ the Marauders and their oh so charming ways." said Snape.

"Lily Evans doesn't. She's always telling them off."

"Yes. Well." Severus swallowed uneasily, then swiftly changed the subject, "I've noticed that you and the Defence Professor have an uneasy truce yourselves."

"Heh. I don't think that's-"

Both their heads swung round. The quiet halls had suddenly resonated with steady footsteps. Morrigan crept out from their hiding place and peaked round the corner. Swearing under her breath she hurriedly made her way back to the waiting Snape.

"Speak of the devil." she muttered, picking up her book and moving deeper into the abandoned duelling room. Severus cautiously followed her; he had as much desire to get caught out after curfew as she.

"Do you know a back way out of here?" Morrigan asked once they were in the pitch black.

"There was an old door behind the stage, but I think it blocked itself off."

"Let's hope it will let us out then."

By touch alone, they found their way round the stage, with only a barked shin on Morrigan's part, and to the back wall. Outside the room the footsteps got louder and the small amount of light filtering in through the doorway vanished. Severus reached out to stop Morrigan from moving or saying anything, but it was too late.

"I think I've found it." she whispered.

The shadow in the doorway turned and a light flared. The Professor had lit his wand, and shone the light into the room.

"If you can find a way to open that door, now would be a good time." said Snape, his own mind racing through possible spells.

"You just keep an eye on him." Morrigan replied, glancing over in the faint wand-light. As she did the light flickered over the pair of them, and the intake of breath from the Professor could be clearly heard.

"Miss Le Fay. Out _again_?" said Professor Buskist, "Desist your activities at once and come here."

"Not a chance!" hissed Morrigan quietly, feeling the glamour of the hidden door under her fingers. With a focused breath and tearing motion of her left hand the glamour fell, the door revealed. "Let's go!"

Severus opened the door as the Professor marched towards them, and together they slipped through. "_Colloportus_." he said as the door closed, "It won't stop him for long."

Hotfooting it down the revealed corridor, Morrigan and Severus followed the twists and turns, up stairs and ramps until Severus had lost his sense of direction completely. Pausing to catch their breath they both listened intently, unfortunately hearing the sound of rapid footfalls behind them.

"Will that man never give up!" exclaimed Le Fay.

"He seems remarkably persistent, even for a teacher." gasped Severus, stretching his side in an attempt to relieve the stitch forming there. Then they were off again, finding their way out of the back corridor and into the main routes.

"Do you know where we are?"

"West wing, somewhere near Ravenclaw Tower, I think." Setting off down the corridor, Severus glanced over his shoulder at Morrigan, "You coming?"

"I'd better not. You get going, don't want him catching us both." said Morrigan.

"He doesn't have to catch either of us." Severus frowned.

"Just go." Morrigan turned her back on him and walked towards the sound of Buskist's oncoming footsteps.

Shaking his head, Severus left. Now he knew she wasn't like the other Gryffindors he would be more willing to seek her out in future. He'd find out why what was going on – he was a Slytherin after all.

XOXOX

The storm that had raged all night, casting its bolts of lightening across the moors, had practically rained itself out. It had left behind a light mizzle (misty-drizzle) that made everything more damp than if it had been raining properly.

James dived after the quaffle, scooping it up at the last possible moment before taking off into the sky again. It was a Friday, which meant that the three third years on the team had a free morning after their late-night astronomy lesson. It also meant that James had a free period; giving him half of his team for the whole morning. So, as team captain, it was early Friday morning that James had designated as one of the Quidditch practices for Gryffindor, much to the annoyance of the team who had to get up insanely early or find themselves drenched in ice-cold water.

He had been out especially early this morning though, running through some warm-up exercises to clear his head. James had not slept well last night, the sound of the storm keeping him awake long after he was tired.

Both Sirius (by force) and Remus (by choice) were sitting in the stands, though on opposite sides. Remus was wrapped warmly in his thickest cloak, an Umbrella Charm keeping the worst of the petulant rain off him and his book. Sirius, on the other hand, seemed to be resuming his sleep with a stupid grin on his face as he leant back, apparently enjoying the feel of the rain on his skin.

James shook his head, lately he thought that Sirius smiled only when Remus was miserable, just to irritate. Unfortunately, that was probably the case, what with the prank war/sporadic nasty cursing between the pair appearing to be unceasing.

Noting the sight of a group of red and gold uniforms making their way onto the pitch James sped down, landing a few yards away from his team mates.

"I don't suppose we could put this off 'til, oh I don't know, summer?" exclaimed Vince Taylor, fifth year keeper and professional complainer.

"Not unless you _want_ to hand over the Quidditch cup to the Ravenclaws." replied James.

Normally the Slytherins were the second-best team at Hogwarts (Gryffindor being the best, obviously), but to the surprise of the majority of students the Ravenclaw team had beaten all comers two years ago, leaving the snakes trailing in third. With a combination of a nimble keeper and a pair of sneaky beaters the eagles were able to stop the opposing team from scoring, something that was not to James' liking.

This year the Gryffindors were in good shape to take the cup after beating Slytherin, but their next match was against the Champions themselves and James planned to work his team hard before then.

"Willis, Fox, get both practice bludgers. I want to see you hitting those things at us with everything you've got." James ordered, "Martin?"

"Yes, boss?" answered the tiny third year seeker who looked a little lost amongst the taller team members.

"Wronski feint."

"Boss!" whined Martin, hating the manoeuvre which always ended up with him in the infirmary.

"No arguing."

Martin took off into the glowering sky, his thin complaints receding out of hearing as he climbed.

"I suppose you want me to fly in circles." moaned Vince, sounding like Eeyore.

"No. I want you to stop these." James held out his hand in which sat a collection of golf balls he had pulled from his pocket, "I've charmed them so they'll act like thrown quaffles."

"You mean Lupin charmed them." said one of the McReedy twins; the other two chasers, both third years.

"Same difference," waved James, "If you can catch these in this weather, you can stop the quaffle."

"Fine. Throw golf balls at me. Doubt my skills. Make me play in the rain!" huffed Vince with a tiny smile on his face.

"_We_ need to work on dealing with those bludgers." finished James, directing the twins to take off.

As he circled around, ready to catch the quaffle, James kept an eye on the rest of the team. Later, he reflected that he should have been keeping an eye on Sirius too.

A flash of spell-light alerted him to the continuation of the war, but he was far too late to stop its effects - as he had been doing when he had the chance. In one complicated moment Sirius had dissolved Remus' Umbrella Charm and turned the drizzle over the bookworm into invisible ink. This resulted in Remus slowly starting to fade away in spots as the rain hit him, his book, and the patch of stands around him.

As Remus noticed what was happening he looked up, a tempered annoyance on his face, and flicked his wand in Sirius' direction.

James quickly looked over to see the rain above the other boy turn black. It too left marks wherever it fell, but rather than turning Sirius invisible it left ghastly black spots on him. Sighing, James considered banning the pair from watching practice, even though it was one of the few times that he could persuade them both to be in the same space voluntarily.

Sadly, his attention was on his friends and not the quaffle, which meant that he didn't see it until it was rebounding back off his face, and then the pain in his broken nose was too much for him to think about catching it.

As he spiralled down, his temper rising, the McReedys on either side of him, James saw that the exchange of spells had continued. And was distracting not just him but the rest of the team.

Remus, who had raced down the stands, his invisible ink cloud still hovering over him, had grown a pair of pointed elvish ears, broken out in warts and was wearing Slytherin robes.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concerned, apparently oblivious to his spell damage, "I can fix it right up if you let me have a look."

"Tanks, Rebus." said James, fuming lightly as a similarly afflicted Sirius joined them.

"_Episkey_." intoned Remus, pointedly ignoring the black-spotted, tail-adorned, blond boy.

"I think you're supposed to catch it with your hand, not your face." teased Sirius, holding his lion's tail out of the mud.

"If you two hadn't been distracting me!" exclaimed James darkly, "In fact, I think you should leave."

"What?" Sirius yelped.

"Go, Padfoot. You too, Moony, thanks for the nose, but I've had it. Don't either of you bother coming to watch us again until you've sorted out your issues. In fact just don't speak to me today!" he snapped, reaching the end of his tether with the canines. Turning his back on them he took off as fast as he could to resume practice, yelling at the rest of the team as he did.

"James!" called Sirius pointlessly, "This is your fault." he accused Remus, only to find that Lupin had collected his nearly invisible book and was heading back up to the castle.

He looked forlornly up at the players above him, then set off to trudge back to the warmth of indoors. Things were not going well for him today. He had been dragged out of bed to join James in the cold and damp, then his plan had backfired, and now he had alienated his last friend.

Sirius muttered under his breath, waving his wand in an attempt to remove the tail Lupin had gifted him with. Muddy, damp and stuck with a tail was not his idea of fun. Intent on undoing the charm he failed to notice Professor McGonagall emerging from the Great Hall.

"Mr. Black, why is there a cloud over your head?" she asked, stopping the sixth year.

"Is there? Oh..." Sirius sighed, the mess that was his life swirling round in his head again.

"Black...Sirius, why don't you join me in my office." McGonagall suggested, gently pushing the miserable looking boy in the correct direction. To her surprise he didn't object or complain, only sighing more deeply and renewing his efforts to remove the fine tail he had acquired.

"Here." she said as he entered the office, sweeping her wand and returning him to his usual human form, though the black spots from the rain remained. "Now, what's wrong?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing." he replied morosely.

"Sirius, both yourself and Lupin have been walking around with _metaphorical_ black clouds over you for weeks now. I have it on good authority that you boys haven't played a single prank on the _school_ since the start of the year. And now I find you inside on a Friday morning looking like a wet dog when you should be out enjoying your friend's flying." Professor McGonagall elucidated, conjuring up a plate of biscuits and some tea.

Sirius looked up from his contemplation of his wand, mildly shocked that his head of house was being nice and not shouting at him like usual.

"It's nothing. It's just...it's Remus. And the mess I made of things last year, and the nasty remark at breakfast, and running away from home! Merlin! It hurts! I didn't think that would be so hard!" he blurted, finding his words tripping over each other as they emerged, "It's James and his stupid promise to Evans, and that damn werewolf's stubborn _refusal_ to accept an apology. I meant it every time, and he just refused to even acknowledge it.

"Then he went and made that _comment_ and it hurt so much, that he would say something like that! Then he started retaliating over the payback, and James refused to help. Said that the chance of being _Head Boy_ was more important." he sneered, unconsciously echoing Severus Snape's usual expression, "I just...don't feel like I have friends any more."

Sirius sighed, slumping into the chair in front of McGonagall's desk, rubbing at his face with his hand. It was like a dam had burst and all the feelings he had kept locked inside had flooded out all at once. All the anger that he had felt towards Remus and lately towards James as well had vanished, leaving a gaping hole where his best friends had been.

"Feeling a wee bit better?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Sort of." he admitted. It did feel better not to be carrying round the anger, but the emptiness was cold and hurt inside.

"Well then. Why don't we start at the beginning and see what we can do about that?" she smiled pouring him some tea.

"Erm, alright."

"Start with Remus." McGonagall suggested.

"You know about what happened last year?" he sighed, continuing at her nod, "Well, I was trying to apologise about it for the first few weeks, months...but then -" his face darkened as he recalled that morning, "- he insulted me, said that I was no better than those _Death Eaters_."

"That doesn't sound like him." said the Professor, frowning.

"It's what he said," glowered Sirius, "That's why I cursed him, then he cursed me, and..." he lifted his hands upwards.

"It got out of hand." concluded McGonagall.

"A bit. Now James won't let us watch him practice, we kinda distracted him. I think he's had enough of us really."

"I see. Perhaps it's time you both had a long chat, I could arrange a convenient opportunity."

"You mean detention." smirked Sirius, who after five years knew exactly how far he could push the transfiguration Professor.

"You do still have three days left."

"Ah."

"What about the situation at home? I understand you're living with the Potters now?"

"Yes. I just..." Sirius paused, watching an owl struggling through the wild winds around the towers outside the window, "I don't like my _family_, especially after last summer, but..."

"That doesn't mean you don't miss them."

Sirius nodded, wondering how he could possibly feel anything except hate for the people who had punished, degraded and cursed him for the majority of his life, finally disowning him after he had left. To be hurting because they were no longer in his life seemed to go against everything he knew. It wasn't like he missed the snide remarks and cutting looks, but for the reason behind the hurt to be that he missed _them_...

"It's a natural reaction. It's not so much a case of missing the individuals concerned," Professor McGonagall said, pursing her lips as the only sign that she agreed with Sirius' opinion of his erstwhile family, "More a case of missing the security of home. After all, it is the first place we know."

Again Sirius nodded, testing out her words against his feelings and finding they fitted. He did miss having a place in the family, no matter whether it was a position as the outcast. At the Potters he was a guest still, though that had changed slightly over the holidays. Smiling, he realised that recognising that eased a fair amount of the pain he had been carrying with him, and he felt lighter than he had done in months.

"Thanks Minnie." he grinned.

"Mr. Black..."

"Sorry. Thanks, Professor McGonagall."

"Alright then. Now, about your friends... I think that the best thing to do is talk to them. If Mr. Lupin incurs another detention I shall see that you have an opportunity. Mr. Potter, on the other hand, is completely your responsibility. If you want to regain his friendship then you may need to make amends.

"Now – I believe you have places to be, and I have a group of second years to teach." she said, shooing him out of her office.

Sirius smiled and raced off, giving a tiny wave to her as he did, nearly knocking down a fourth year as he went. Professor McGonagall shook her head; that boy was not as obvious as he seemed.

XOXOX

A thick fog streamed over the land, filling valleys and easing its way round doors and windows, till nothing could be seen. With it the fog brought a wintry cold the like of which Mr. Brown had never known. Pushing open the gate and latching it behind him, Mr. Brown shook the bucket in his hand, calling out to his flock as he did.

Sheep were hard to see in a fog, but always you could hear them bleating to each other. There was a silence over the land now though, the sheep silent, no birds or other wildlife to be heard. Mr. Brown shivered and walked towards the old oak he knew the sheep gathered round at night.

A figure loomed out of the grey light, and for a moment Mr. Brown through he'd found his flock, then the figure became clearer and he realised it was a man in a cloak.

"That you, Jack?" he asked, "What you doin' out 'ere?"

The man made no reply, and Mr. Brown shivered again: the cold was growing worse. More than that, there was a strange feeling in the air, like there had been over on the Harding farm when they had to destroy their flock due to foot and mouth. It was that soul-destroying numbness that came with the destruction of your livelihood.

"Quit playin' silly bees an' help me find the flock, Jack." Mr. Brown said authoritatively, trying to shake off the feeling.

The figure moved closer still, and now Mr. Brown could hear strange rattling breaths. Though he couldn't tell you why, the sound chilled him to the bone and he started backing away.

"Jack? Stop this now, lad." he commanded, the strength slipping from his voice, "Stop it, d'ya hear?"

Inside, part of him was telling him to run, run and not look back, but the cold had crept within and Mr. Brown stopped, the bucket falling to the ground. Gliding towards him, the cloaked figure reached out a skeletal hand and Mr. Brown felt all the happiness in him drain away; thoughts of his family back in the farmhouse, his plans for the flock, his love of the simple life and the rewards it brought. Everything that was good was drained away by the foul creature in front of him.

Dimly Mr. Brown saw the being push back its hood and lower its grotesque parody of a face to his.

Then Mr. Brown knew no more.

XOXOX

**And what are your feelings on this instalment? Review.**


	9. Charming Fight

A/N: Dedicated to my beta, Half-Drowned Dracula, whose hard work brings you this instalment sooner than I thought.

**Pureblood Dreams**

By Lilybet

**Chapter Nine**

Defence against the Dark Arts had just got interesting. From working on non-verbal hexes and curses, the course had moved on to examining the Dark Arts themselves. In particular, what made them so seductive and dangerous. Severus was in his element. And so, it seemed, was Morrigan.

"You can throw them harder than that, Snape. I'm not a china doll." she goaded as they sparred in the shielded circle in the centre of the room.

Severus responded, putting more power into the simple and legal Dark curse. It was designed to destroy a shield by causing magical feedback, thus leaving the defender shaken for a few crucial moments, giving the attacker an opening. It was a Dark curse simply because with enough power behind it it could cause a magical surge, knocking the defender out for days.

In the back of the room, Sirius was trying to get James' attention away from doodling on his exercise book by throwing paper-clips at him. James, who was still annoyed about the disrupted Quidditch practise, was brushing the stationary out of his hair every few seconds without turning round to glower at the cause.

Finally Sirius ran out of suitable ammo and scribbled out a note, folding it carefully into a paper plane before sending it over to stick out of James' untameable mop.

James reached up and pulled the offending article from his hair, running his fingers through it as he did. Scowling, he opened it up and quickly read the note.

_Prongs. Really sorry about practice. Friends? Padfoot._

A paper lily landed on Sirius' desk, and he hurried to find the corner which would spread it out to a flat sheet of paper again, revealing the note inside.

_Padfoot. Friends. But you will tidying my stuff for a week. Prongs._

Dipping his quill into the ink, Sirius slowly wrote out the statement that James had probably been longing to hear for the past few months.

_How can I get Moony to talk to me? Minnie suggested detention. Padfoot._

Grinning, James ignored the questioning look from Remus at his side to form a reply.

_About time! Took you long enough. Run out of prank ideas? _

_Moony in a detention? Possible. Moony in the same detention as you? Tricky. Prank required? _

_Prongs._

_Padfoot has not run out of prank ideas. Padfoot will never run out of prank ideas! _

_One person pranks never get two Marauders in detention. Remember: Singing armour. Wormtail hopeless. Help! Padfoot._

_Prongs has a prior commitment. _

_Padfoot will treat Prongs to a new set of Quidditch robes if he helps._

_Prongs will not be bought. Not even with Quidditch robes._

_If Prongs doesn't help Padfoot with the prank then Moony and Padfoot will never be friends again. Prongs will have to put up with the pranks going on and on and on and on...Plus Lily will be happy that Moony isn't unhappy anymore._

_Fine. _

Sirius smiled as the concession in the shape of a distraught crane arrived in his hand, and he congratulated himself on breaking through the Lily-wrought barrier which had stopped James from pranking all year. Maybe once the Marauders were all back together they could convince him that there was another way of getting Lily to go out with him, other than sticking to the no-pranks-equals-date deal.

On the small duelling stage Morrigan dropped her shield for a second; just long enough to fire a silencer at Snape. Suddenly finding himself lacking in voice, Severus threw up his own shield. With one quick slice of her wand Le Fay incanted the feedback curse. Severus' shield crackled with light for a brief moment and then fell.

"Good." praised the Professor, though his expression said the opposite.

Snape looked both annoyed and bemused as he attempted to lift the silencing spell. Nothing was happening.

"To your seats please. Mr. Snape, if the spell has not worn off by the end of the class remain behind. Next pair – Latimer and Black."

After the class Morrigan, whilst passing Snape, caught the boy's eye for a moment and winked. Then she walked on with Lily, Alice and Beatrice, who were bemoaning their woeful Defence teachers over the years.

Sirius watched her go, a curious expression on his face, which quickly morphed into a more fiendish one as he spotted the straggling Snape. Whipping out his wand, he constructed a trip wire in front of the Slytherin's ankles. Poking James in the side he whispered for him to watch.

Not on guard for low pranks Snape wasn't watching where he was going, and as his foot caught on the wire the books spilled from his arms, his bag came flying off to split as it hit the ground, and he wildly threw out his arms to catch himself from breaking his nose again on the stone floor. His papers, ink and school paraphernalia went everywhere, and Snape suppressed a groan as he lifted himself from his prone position, only to find that the wire was tangled round his ankles and he couldn't stand.

Laughter alerted him to the source of his problem and he turned round as best he was able to see Potter and Black with large grins on their faces. Even Lupin, who had been directing his pranking energy only towards Black, was struggling to suppress a smile. Snape snarled, pulling out his wand, determined to curse their smiles off their faces, and if their noses went too, so be it.

Immediately the Marauders formed up: Peter at the back, keeping an eye out for oncoming teachers; Remus in the centre, ready with defensive shielding; while Sirius and James took point to do the most damage to the enemy. None of them thought about it, so instinctive had the formation become over the years.

Severing the cord around his ankles, Snape threw a barrage of curses out as he twisted round, his robes swirling out to present a larger target. Alone, as always, Snape had to be quicker with his hexes than the four Gryffindors, whilst also trying to think his way out of the situation fast.

James and Sirius snapped out a pair of curses they had learnt had interesting effects when combined, Remus' shield stopping all the curses sent their way, but Snape was too quick with his wand and countered the spells.

The battle raged for long minutes in the corridor outside the Defence classroom, with nasty words exchanged as often as spells. Then, with a cry of "Teacher!" from Peter, the participants scattered; the Marauders down a handy secret passage, Snape summoning his books and broken bag before racing off down the corridor. As quickly as it had begun it was over, with no sign remaining that there had ever been a fight.

XOXOX

Down the secret passage between the Defence corridor and the Infirmary the Marauders had ground to a panting, giggling halt. James was the one giggling, and that was because out of all the possible spells to get through Remus' shield he had been hit with an overdone Cheering Charm. Why Snape had thrown a Cheering Charm at the Marauders was beyond James' understanding, but right now he really didn't care, he felt...overjoyed.

"_Finite Incantum._" intoned Remus, deflating James' happy bubble.

"That was fun!" James declared in a loud voice, the grin on his face not vanishing.

"Are you sure you removed the Charm?" Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow at the Chaser's behaviour.

There was a moment of utter silence as the two warring pranksters looked each other in the eye. Suddenly the question wasn't about James anymore, it was about them. About the last few months and all the damage that had been caused.

James and Peter watched with bated breath as Remus debated internally whether Sirius really deserved forgiveness, even after everything that had been said and done by himself. It was true that as Remus' first real friend Sirius had meant more than the other Marauders to him, being a werewolf had never given him many opportunities to make friends, and Sirius had accepted his 'furry problem' without batting an eyelid. Which was why it had hurt that much more when Sirius had disregarded his feelings and risked everything for a _few laughs_.

Sirius just stood and waited, wondering if life had just handed him a break. Could it be this easy: have all the Marauders get into a fight with Snape, reminding them of how things had been and ta-da! normality resumes? Everything depended on Remus now, if he would just forgive him then this could all be brushed under the carpet, only to be brought out when they were older and could laugh at it.

Remus blinked, and said, "I removed the Charm, but the damage might be permanent."

Then, with a sad smile, he walked away from the Marauders, down the passage and off to his next lesson.

James groaned inside, wanting to haul Remus back and bash his head against the wall until things were fixed. But since that wouldn't do any good, he turned to Sirius and asked, "What now?"

"We go back to Plan A." Sirius shrugged. This was the first sign in ages that things _could_ return to normal, and - like his animagus form with a bone - once Sirius got hold of an idea he didn't let go.

"Plan A?" quavered Peter.

"Pranks, Wormtail, Pranks and Detention."

XOXOX

Golden doors rose up before Lily, intricate patterns laden on their sleek panels. They were so tall that their tops were lost to her gaze, making her feel as if she had grown smaller as she approached them. Lily reached out to open them, to see what lay beyond, yet before her hand could touch them they swung silently open.

Standing in the courtyard of the spire-laden castle Lily breathed in the magical air. It smelled of cut grass and falling summer rain, of old books and wisdom. Yet there was something subtle, something wrong with the vista that opened before her. The doors that swung open revealed woods, neat grass, bright flowers, but not one creature. No birds singing, no bees, no feeling of life in the air. It was as if everything was asleep, for the place did not have that truly empty feeling.

Lily ran, ran until the grass rose up and tangled her legs, sending her crashing to the ground. Furious, she struggled, twisting, turning, then falling. Without reason she fell.

The ground rose up to meet her and the breath left her as she woke, lying on the floor. Opening her eyes, Lily felt confused for a second as she peered under the bed, wondering when her scarf had meandered its way under there. Then her brain snapped into focus and she groaned.

Still looking under the bed, Lily pulled out the scarf only to find it was wrapped round something else. James' Christmas present to her. She groaned again and winched herself up onto her bed. She hadn't meant to fall asleep before dinner, but maybe it had been for the best. She'd been meaning do to something about that dratted present for a while now.

Pushing her hair into less of a mess, Lily Evans sat on her bed turning the blue velvet box round and round in her hands. James' Christmas present to her; a beautiful bracelet which she couldn't possibly accept. She hadn't yet got round to giving it back to him, and it was getting to the point where she really _had_ to either hand it back or keep it.

"I haven't had the chance to catch him alone, that's all." she rationalised to herself, "It's not like I can hand it back to him in front of all his friends."

"Lily! Lily!" Alice nearly screamed as she burst in through the door, "You've got to come, quick!"

"Calm down! What's going on?" Lily asked, jumping up from her bed and stuffing the box in her pocket as she went over to her friend.

"It's the third years, they're fighting with the Slytherins! Out by Greenhouse One! Come on!" Alice grabbed Lily by the wrist and started pulling the Prefect out of the room.

"Where's Jayne? Can't she deal with it?" Lily asked, referring to Jayne Whitmore, Ravenclaw and current Head Girl.

"She's sorting out a fight between Donaldson and Marshall. All the other Prefects are busy, the Head Boy's still in the hospital wing, and I've just run through the castle without seeing a teacher! Lily, you're their only hope!" Alice demanded as they nearly tumbled down the stairs and out the common room door.

"Right then." Lily pulled herself together, pushing the thought of the bracelet to the back of her mind and picking up the pace, "See if you can find Beatrice or any other sixth or seventh years. I'm going to need all the help I can get, this has been brewing a long time."

"Alright, but you owe me at least one Butterbeer for this." Alice sighed, running off to the library in the hopes of finding some help there.

Lily jogged through the castle, her feet barely touching the stairs on the way down, and out into the grounds. As soon as she got outside she wished Alice had given her the chance to grab a cloak, it was so cold outside that she could see her breath steaming and the new layer of ice crunched underfoot.

The sound of fighting could be heard by the greenhouses, the magical curses interspersed with ones Lily didn't want to hear coming from the mouths of thirteen-year-olds. She ran over, her wand firmly grasped in her hand and her eyes pealed.

As she came across the battle ground she assessed it quickly; to one side a group of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff third years, about seventeen in all, were protecting a fallen friend who looked like she had been hit with a nasty Jelly-Legs and Impedimenta combination. On the other side there were only Slytherins, but mixed in with the third years were a number of fourth and even fifth year students. The Gryffindors had the greater numbers, but the Slytherins had a tactical advantage, with both more advanced students and a defensive position; their stand being made from the boundary wall of the greenhouse, while the third year team was out in the open.

The fight had been imminent for weeks now, with foul words and whispered jibes in the halls inflaming tempers on both sides. More than once the Prefects and Teachers had disciplined the ring-leaders, but it had little effect. The root of the problem was impossible to pin down, though the usual Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry had not helped the matter to a calm conclusion.

Seeing a second Gryffindor go down Lily felt her temper rise. This was no way for students of Hogwarts to behave, especially members of _her_ house!

"STOP THIS INSTANT!" she yelled, striding into the midst of the flying spells, "WHAT _DO_ YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING? THIS IS A _SCHOOL_, NOT A BATTLEFIELD! _YOU_ are _supposed_ to be the best young witches and wizards this country has to offer, setting an example for the rest of the _world_. And here you are _brawling_ like animals! I am ashamed to be associated with you, yes you Evan Martin, don't think I didn't hear what you shouted. If your mother could have heard that she'd wash your mouth out."

"And you lot," Lily continued, turning to the Slytherins, "You're fourth and fifth year students, you should be working towards your OWLS, not cursing younger students. A fine ambition I'm sure, I can see your résumés now _'OWLS – None, but can beat up kids younger than me.'_ Oh yes, very impressive. I hope you're very happy with yourselves, _ALL_ of you!"

The sound of clapping behind her broke Lily's tirade as she paused for breath, and she turned round ready to shout at the offending individual, only to find that there were half a dozen sixth and seventh year Gryffindor's watching her. Sirius and James were at the front of the students, and it was James who was clapping with a grin on his face.

As he saw that she had turned he said, "Oh, sorry. Don't stop, I was enjoying that."

Lily scowled at him; she hated it when people interrupted her, though stopping her with a compliment was very unusual, normally people just wanted her to stop.

There was sniggering from the third years on the red and yellow side of the field, and Lily whirled to face the source, but before she could open her mouth to start yelling again someone had gone past her and was towering over the offender.

"Were you finding something funny McReedy?" James asked politely, but with steel in his voice. Though James wasn't very tall he still stood head and shoulders over the now quivering McReedy twin.

"N-no, sir?" he answered uncertainly.

"Damn right you weren't. Did you listen to Miss Evans, or were you thinking about how to attack the Slytherins behind her back? Well?" James demanded, his wand appearing in his hand.

As the Chaser tried to answer his Captain, some of the Slytherins tried to escape the oncoming detentions by slipping away round the backs of the greenhouses, only to find themselves facing three burly seventh-years with wands and menacing looks.

"Going somewhere?" one of them asked, before gesturing with his wand for them to return to the battleground.

Lily listened in awe as James turned the three members of his team amongst the students into bundles of nerves, not by shouting at them, but by using a chilling tone which sent shivers down the spines of all within hearing. She wasn't just shivering from the tone though - the cold temperature was cutting right through her normally warm winter robes, and she really wished she'd brought a cloak with her.

Stamping her feet to keep warm, she tried to keep an eye on everyone. From the Slytherins who had just emerged from behind the greenhouses with the seventh-years at their backs, to the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff band who were cowering before James but afraid to step back and face the wands of Beatrice and Alice. In fact she would have felt slightly superfluous if she hadn't been the only Prefect there.

A heavy cloak draped round her shoulders and she pulled it round her before looking sideways at Sirius. He shrugged and said, "I'll steal James'."

"Thanks." she said gratefully.

James was winding down in his tormenting of the third-years, and Lily decided that it was a good time to pull out the little black book which all Prefects had to write down detentions. Sirius stood behind her, a sour look on his face and wand trained on a certain fourth year who he had just spotted, as Lily cleared her throat. James, and everyone else, turned their attention to her as she spoke.

"As is my duty as a Prefect, I-" she began.

"If I may, Lily?" James interrupted, "I think I know exactly what to do with these miscreants." Shooting a nasty look at Martin and the McReedy twins, he walked over to Lily and whispered in her ear. The emotions of annoyance, surprise, and then fiendish glee that came over Lily's face did nothing to reassure the misbehaved population standing in the frozen mud.

"Right." Lily smirked, "As Ja-Potter has suggested, you will all be serving detention for a week, with Filch," Lily waited until the furore died down before adding, "Cleaning the Quidditch stands by hand."

The two sides were at once united in their horrified expressions; the next House Match was in two days time, and the amount of mess that was made during a game was truly terrible. A number of the Gryffindor's rushed forwards, as best they were able, to try to change the punishment. They were hoping that being in the same house meant that their Prefect would go a little more easily on them than the others.

James and Sirius moved quickly in front of Lily and force marched the third-years back to the line, cutting off all arguments and pleas with sharp comments.

"You can't do that." A Slytherin voice spoke up, well away from the seventh-year guards who were starting to rectify some of the damage the fight had done.

"I think you'll find I can, Mr. Black." Lily said, identifying the speaker.

"You're not our Prefect, you don't have the authority to give us detention." Regulus sneered, trying to replicate Snape's expression and failing.

"Actually, Reggie, she does." Sirius said, heading over to his brother.

"What would you know, traitor?" Regulus goaded.

Sirius' wand, already out, was trained on the younger Black so fast that it made Lily's head spin. Advancing on him, Sirius ignored Regulus' own wand pointed in his direction, he'd finally had enough of the nasty comments, the blatant taunts and general bullying. It was beyond time that he taught the Slytherin a lesson in manners.

"Sirius?" James called over from where he had begun helping Alice and Beatrice sort out the third-year injuries, "Could do with your help here, mate. Nasty combination of hexes."

"In a minute." Sirius growled, sparks flying from his wand.

The tension between the two sides began to rise again, and the seventh-year Gryffindors found themselves having to assert their age and height to try to keep order amongst the Slytherins. On the other side James had caught the arm of a Hufflepuff girl and was extracting the wands from the hands of other enthusiastic teenagers. He was trying to keep an eye on Sirius, but with so many other temperamental personalities in the mix, keeping things from getting out of hand was his first priority.

Lily saw Sirius draw back his wand, ready to curse his brother, and rushed over. Grabbing his wand arm she hung on as he tried to escape. She was now between the pair, and Regulus was still taunting Sirius, saying that he made a pretty poor wizard: needing a girl to help him. Her own temper barely under control, Lily looked Sirius in the eye and said softly, "He's not worth it."

"He's a slimy, inbred, petulant piece of pus." Sirius snarled, trying to wrench his arm from Lily.

"At least I'm not a traitor." Regulus sneered.

"Not worth it." Lily repeated, before looking over her shoulder and biting out, "_You_ shut up!"

"I won't be told what to do by a Mudblood!" Regulus hissed.

Lily turned quickly, letting go of Sirius' arm to bring her own wand point up under Regulus' chin. Sirius strained to get past her, and James' head snapped round at the derogatory term. Yells went up from the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff camp, at any moment it looked like war would break out again between the red and green sides. The Slytherins formed a loose circle, guarding themselves at their backs against the seventh-years who were all in fighting stances.

"By rights I should curse you into next year for calling me that." Lily said through her teeth, "But since I am a Prefect and have dignity, unlike _you_, I'm going to double your detention _and_ speak to Professor Dumbledore about this. We'll see what _he_ has to say about the lack of manners in Slytherin."

"I would say that it is very bad form, and that I'd like to see young Mr. Black in my office." said Professor Dumbledore, the hem of his green robes trailing as he walked towards the scene. Behind him came a medley of Professors, Prefects and interested onlookers.

Lily stepped away from Regulus, forcing Sirius backwards at the same time, "Sir -" she began.

"No need to explain, Miss Evans, I assure you." the Professor interrupted, holding up his hand, "I have a remarkably good view from my window, and the acoustics round here are excellent. In fact I find myself unable to add anything to your enterprising speech, and I congratulate you on your and Mr. Potter's inventiveness."

"Thank you, sir." Lily murmured, a faint blush rising in her cheeks.

"And now, let us allow Madam Pomfrey to assess the damage." Dumbledore gestured the medi-witch forwards and the two other teachers followed, correcting what misplaced spells they could. The Prefects kept the interested crowd back, threatening them with detentions if they didn't disperse.

Sirius turned his back on his brother, walking angrily away to assist James and the other Gryffindors with the reversal process. Lily shot a glare at Regulus before following.

XOXOX

Eventually the last of the walking wounded had limped, floated or been carried into the castle, helped by the Gryffindor rescue party (who had all earned points for their assistance). Lily hung back, watching James shivering as he threw retaliatory spells at Sirius who was now wearing his cloak. Putting her hands in her inner pockets Lily's fingers curled round the box from the cloakless boy; it had to be done whether she liked it or not.

"James? Can I have a word?" she called over.

James looked round, his distraction earning him a mohican. He smoothed down his hair into its normal disarray, said something apparently funny to Sirius, and jogged over to her.

"You called, m'lady." he bowed.

"Um, yes." hesitated Lily, the caterpillars in her stomach turning into butterflies.

Catching the nervous way her fingers were fiddling with the edge of Sirius' borrowed cloak, James straightened up and lost the hopeful charming look on his face. Running his fingers through his hair he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out Lily pushed something at him. James recognised it instantly – it was the bracelet he'd sent Lily as a Christmas present. His heart dropped from his throat, by-passing his stomach on the way to his boots.

"I-I can't accept this. I know I should have given it back sooner, but well, I didn't. I'm sorry. It's really nice, and thank you for the gesture, but it's really too much. I mean it must have cost a fortune, and I know you like me but I just ... can't." Lily took a deep breath and went on more steadily, "Thank you James, but I can't accept such a present."

Pressing the box into his hand Lily didn't dare to look up and see the expression on his face. Silently she started walking away, a leaden feeling inside.

James stared for a moment at the box then whirled round and caught Lily by the shoulder, turning her to face him.

"It was a gift, keep it." he said, slipping the bracelet out of the box and onto her wrist. "See, I knew it would suit you."

"James!" Lily protested.

"No." James stopped her, "Look I know I've pushed you and made things really difficult, but I'm trying to change. I'm trying to be the person you want me to be. Please..." he trailed off and brushed his fingers through the curls of her glistening hair, edging a half-step forwards as he did.

Lily looked up and saw behind the circles of glass a pair of honest eyes. There was a look in them that spoke to something deep inside her, and she wondered briefly if James really had changed. His hand lingered in her hair, teasing the strands with his thumb. Lily sighed and slipped the bracelet off her wrist. She took his hand out of her hair and closed his fingers around the gift.

"I'm sorry, James." she whispered, "Not yet."

"I won't pretend to understand. But I won't stop trying." he sighed.

She nodded and turned away to look up at the castle. "You are changing...just...don't change too much."

XOXOX

**Is there something missing? Or something you'd like to see?**

**Review**


	10. Making Amends

**Pureblood Dreams**

By Lilybet

**Chapter Ten**

Little Sally woke up to the dual sounds of laughter and screaming. There were strange flashes of light coming under her door, and she was very scared. Normally when she was scared Sally climbed out of her bed and went and woke her Mummy. But Sally didn't want to go out there. The screaming sounded a lot like her Daddy had when he hit his thumb with the hammer, and the laughter wasn't nice and warm; it was horrid.

Sally pulled the duvet over her head and curled into a small ball. One arm snaked stealthily out of her hiding place and patted round till it found Teddy, then it retreated back, prize in hand. Safe in her warm cocoon, Sally put her hands over her ears and tried not to listen. It was very hard not to, and she couldn't help crying a bit.

Finally the screaming stopped, but Sally didn't move. She lifted one hand from an ear and listened hard. The laughing people were still in the house.

Suddenly the stairs creaked and a male voice said, "Are you sure the Mudblood kid's here?"

"Of course." a female voice replied, "All the toys and stuff are here, aren't they!"

Sally crawled hurriedly out of bed, pulling the covers straight, and hid in the wardrobe. It was her best hiding place, 'cause when she pulled the door to you could see out but not in.

The people were outside her door now, she could see the shadows of their feet under it. Sally pulled the wardrobe door shut just as the door to her room opened. The two figures were illuminated by the really thin torches they both held in their hands. Both were wearing long black robes and strange white masks. The woman put her hand on the man's arm and pulled him close.

"This is a perfect honeymoon, my love." she whispered, and edged into Sally's room.

"It doesn't look like the girl's here." the man said with a smile in his voice.

"She could be hiding. Come out, come out wherever you are!" the woman hissed.

Together they searched Sally's room, checking under the bed and in her toy cupboard. Just as the woman reached to open the wardrobe another male voice called up the stairs, "The kid's not here."

The man in the room sighed and shouted back, "How do you know?"

"Found a note. She's at her _Grandma's_. I'll head over."

"Guess you were wrong." the man said to the woman with a shrug.

"Hmph."

"Come on, my love, let's go torture an old lady." the man said gently, holding out his arm.

"Can I _Crucio_ her?" asked the woman, accepting his arm.

"If you like."

Then there was a loud crack and both of them were gone.

In the wardrobe Sally clutched Teddy tightly, tears streaming down her face. She had seen Grandma last weekend and didn't want anything bad to happen to her. It had sounded like they were very bad people.

XOXOX

Sirius hummed to himself as he went downstairs. Today was a Thursday, and at the moment he liked Thursdays. Starting with Muggle Studies (taken to annoy his parents, but actually fairly interesting) and ending with a free period, the day also included watching James' attempts to create the perfect flame-coloured lily in Charms, flicking beetle eyes at Snape in potions, and the prospect of pranks at lunch.

Waltzing into the Great Hall, Sirius smiled at the sight of James hurriedly finishing his Arithmancy homework. He had that frantic look on his face which was just begging to be interrupted. As he was musing on how to go about startling the boy Sirius' regular _Prophet_ owl flew overhead, and he held out his hand for the paper to drop into.

"_Death Eaters attack Muggleborns_" read the headline.

"Wonderful." Sirius muttered, his good mood fading. The attacks by Death Eaters had been getting more and more frequent over the past few months, until not even the Ministry's vague statements could cover up the fact that the wizarding world was under siege by the Death Eaters and their unknown leader.

"I take it you've seen the news," commented James absently, calculating rapidly as he spoke, "They got a photo this time."

Sirius checked out the paper again, and sure enough there was a slightly blurred photo of witches and wizards in black robes and white masks with the ghoulish 'Dark Mark' hovering over the nearby house. Reading the article, a shiver ran down his spine:

"..._Out of the small family there was only one survivor – Sally Newman, aged six. Bravely hiding in a wardrobe, Sally was able to overhear the conversation between two of the Death Eaters. The man and woman who searched her room were apparently a newly married couple, which..._"

A newly married couple of Death Eaters who (Sirius' eyes flicked over the rest of the article documenting Sally's testimony) had a penchant for the unforgivable curses. Especially the Cruciatus. Sirius knew that spell all too well. He also knew that his cousin, Bellatrix, had just got married to one of the Lestrange brothers.

"What a wonderful thought." he muttered.

"What was that?" James asked, surfacing from his homework.

"This." Sirius pushed the paper across to James, "I think that that witch is my own _dear_ cousin."

"Whoo. Well, it's a good thing you got out of there, then." James grinned lopsidedly.

"Got out of where?" Peter questioned, joining the pair.

"Can you be any more dense, Wormtail?" James shook his head.

XOXOX

One person had already seen the paper and wasn't going down to breakfast. Not because his stomach was upset over the contents of the newspaper, but because the photo on the front page had reminded him of something.

Remus was desperately rummaging through his trunk, almost throwing discarded books over his shoulder in his anxiety. He'd spotted something in that photo that made him determined to find a certain textbook. He just had to confirm his suspicion. Part of him knew, as he reached the bottom of his trunk and started crawling under his bed, that he was acting irrationally. That same part of him was also calmly pointing out the nearly full moon and his tendency to snarl at everything since he woke.

Not finding the book he was looking for amongst his own – now disorganised – stuff, he crawled out from under his bed and sat back on his heels. If anyone had come into the the dormitory at that moment they would have easily made the comparison between Remus and a hungry dog who's been told there's a bone in the room. His pupils dilated and nostrils flared, taking in the scent of four teenage boys. Then his eyes fixed on the trunk opposite his – Sirius'; something told him that that was the place to look.

Scrabbling across the room on all-fours, Remus started decanting the treacherous mess of Sirius' trunk onto the floor, examining each barely-touched textbook as he went. Then, there in the bottom corner of the trunk, his sharp eyes picked out the cover he was looking for. Remus pushed aside the bag of dungbombs carefully, shifted the cracked two-way mirror, and lifted out his precious prize.

Immediately he leafed through the book, creasing pages in his hurry, until he ran across the catalogue of symbols he was looking for. Temporarily forgetting his ability to summon things rather than chase after them, Remus bounded across the room again to pull the newspaper out from under the junk on his bed.

There, in the blurred shot, was a group of masked figures - and in the corner, noticeable only to the very sharp-eyed, was the flicker of a lighter robe. It flashed in and out of the picture so quickly that at first Remus had thought he was imagining it. But with his predatory instincts sharpened he was able to see what others couldn't – the clear glimpse of one particular symbol embroidered on the garment.

Lining up the text and the picture Remus' eyes flicked from one to the other. As he made the connection he murmured to himself, "Interesting, very interesting."

XOXOX

James walked into the Charms classroom and nodded to Sirius, who grinned in return. The game was in motion. He sat down next to Remus and pulled out his textbook, flipping to the next section that they would be covering: _Conjuring – The Rules_. It sounded _entrancing_.

Sirius sat straight and tried not to look like he was going to do anything suspicious; which in itself was suspicious. He just had to wait for the right time...not yet...wait until Flitwick wasn't near him...come _on,_ Peter, stop asking for help...that's right, go to the star pupils...turn your back Professor...stop glancing over!...NOW!

The explosion was ear-shattering, and black smoke filled the room as the specialist firework went off with a bang. Everyone started yelling and crying out, though a few more sensible types just hid under their desks until all the commotion had died down.

"Silence everyone! If you would all remain perfectly still I shall disperse this smoke." Professor Flitwick bellowed, his high voice remarkably penetrating, "Thank you. Please return to your seats. Miss Finnegan, there is nothing to be so distraught about, you are unhurt. Now...who was responsible for that? Yes, Miss Evans?"

"I don't think it was an accident, sir." Lily said, lowering her hand.

"Not an accident? Ah. In which case. Mr Black? Yes, you, please turn out the contents of your bag. Now, don't argue, we are all fully aware of your...predilection for explosions. Nothing? Well, perhaps it was one of your fellows. Mr Pettigrew? Hmm. Mr Potter, Mr Lupin, if you please? ... What is this?" Professor Flitwick picked something out of the collection of books, parchment and quills which Remus had emptied onto the desk. It was a small cylinder with _'Filibuster's blackout explosions!" _written on the side.

The Professor fixed Remus with a disappointed look and said, shaking his head, "Mr Lupin. And you a Prefect. Though...your behaviour has not been exemplary of late. I will have to give you detention for this. Now, now, don't deny the evidence. Detention. Tonight."

XOXOX

Remus dragged his heels on the way to the Transfiguration classroom where detention was being held. He had tried protesting his innocence to both Professor Flitwick at the end of the lesson, and then to Professor McGonagall. Neither had been willing to change their opinion of the culprit. In fact, Professor McGonagall had had a strange look in her eye when she insisted he complete the punishment with her.

Knocking politely, Remus opened the door only to be greeted by a mildly unwelcome sight. It appeared that the only other person receiving detention tonight was Sirius Black. Stifling a sigh, Remus slid into the desk that the Professor indicated, and tried not to protest through her lecture on the use of fireworks indoors.

"...which is why you are here, Mr Lupin. I suggest you reflect on that for the next hour while you are copying out the book of regulations. Again." McGonagall concluded, settling herself behind her desk and pulling a pile of essays towards her.

The detention went very slowly; every time Remus looked up at the clock it seemed to be moving more and more sluggishly, until he felt like it wasn't moving at all. Side glances at Sirius weren't overly helpful either: he was neatly transcribing the rules with a tiny smile on his face. For all Remus knew he could be daydreaming. That particular talent of Sirius': the ability to complete detentions without a care in the world, was one that he secretly envied.

He was up to regulation fifty-one (Students may not walk around on Sundays with an ice cream cone in his/her pocket) when the Professor got up from her desk, saying, "I have to fetch some more red ink. Neither of you will leave this room while I am gone, and if I find anything out of place you will repeat the detention tomorrow."

The moment the door closed behind her Sirius set down his quill and turned to Remus, "Sorry about all this, but it _was_ her idea."

"What?" Remus replied, confused.

"The detention. Minnie thought it was a good way for us to talk without interruption. She said she'd convince you to come along, but well, it was taking too long. So I seized the opportunity." Sirius smiled.

"The opportunity." Remus said blandly, "Fine. Talk."

Sirius stood up and started pacing between their two desks talking at he went, "Don't you think it's all got a bit out of hand? I mean, it was all very well at the beginning. I did do something stupid. And you did say something that hurt. But can't we just put it all behind us? This endless pranking, it's alienating everyone. James, Peter...and I'm sure that the rest of Gryffindor aren't too happy with us."

"Sirius- No, let me say something." Remus interrupted, holding up his hand, "You're right. It has got out of hand. And, yes, I am sorry about what I said. But you can't expect me to forgive you, can you?"

"Why not?" Sirius demanded.

"Because...because...because I could have killed him!" Remus exploded, knocking over his chair as he stood. "I could have killed Snape and it would have been your fault!"

"I know!" agreed Sirius.

"But you don't get it do you? You never did." Remus continued, oblivious to Sirius' acknowledgement, "You never understood the reality of _what I am._"

"You're a werewolf." Sirius said softly.

"I'm a monster!" Remus growled, grabbing the taller boy and pulling him close enough that Sirius could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, "I _wanted_ to kill him. Do you get it now? Do you see? Can you tell that right now there's a part of me that _wants_ to kill _you_?"

"But you won't." Sirius said, dropping his hands to his sides in a gesture of trust.

"You can't know that."

"Yes. I can."

"How?" Remus demanded, loosening his strong grip on Sirius' robes, "How can you know that I'm not going to tear you apart?"

"Because you're my friend and I know you." said Sirius with hope in his heart, "You carry the beast inside you, but you are not the beast. You fight it the whole time. You could be like the other werewolves: real monsters who don't care if they kill someone. But you're not. You're always looking over your own shoulder, holding back your temper, keeping your cool, and _never_ doing what the beast wants. You're stronger than it. I trust you to always be stronger than it...though if you'd let me go, I'd be really happy."

"Hng." Remus vocalised, and released his grip. He turned away and ran his hands over his face. Then he looked back at Sirius, who was straightening out his robes nonchalantly, and said, "You really think that?"

"Sure." Sirius shrugged, "Always have. After all, who would imagine Remus Lupin, bookworm, Prefect, and all round nice guy, to have a furry little problem?"

"I'm sorry about calling you a Death Eater." Remus apologised.

"And I'm sorry about pissing off a we-" Sirius broke off quickly at the pointed look, "Alright! Sorry about telling Snape. I shouldn't have. I was an idiot. I need my head examined. I place myself at your mercy, oh Moony! I am unworthy!"

"Mr Black, get up off the floor!" Professor McGonagall said, coming back into the room, notably without any red ink.

XOXOX

There was still a slightly tense silence between the pair as they walked back into the Gryffindor common room, but the main body of animosity had passed. James looked curiously up at them as they both sat down opposite him at the table covered with a very large sheet of parchment.

"I thought I'd try to draw out another map." he commented, eyes flicking between the two, noticing how normal things seemed. Normal for the first five years of their association anyway.

"Didn't Flitwick say that he'd have us in detention for the rest of our lives if we created another one?" Sirius asked.

"He also complimented us on its construction." added Remus dryly, and without any acrid comment towards Sirius.

"Which is why I'm trying to remember whether there's six flights of stairs to the Divination Tower or seven." James said with a grin. They'd done it, he exulted to himself, they'd actually made up! He felt like doing a dance and shouting out the news to all within hearing. Somehow he constrained himself, the knowledge of how fragile things could be hovering in the forefront of his mind.

"It's seven." said Sirius knowledgeably, "Seven is a more lucky number. Plus I had to walk up them for three years, I know exactly how many stairs there are."

"How many?" asked James.

"Ninety-eight." Morrigan said, coming up behind him, "And I've only taken a term and a half of lessons."

The three boys looked up in surprise; Morrigan's talent of sneaking up on people was very good.

"Was there something in particular, or were you listening in for fun?" asked Sirius calmly.

"Yes, actually. There was." replied Morrigan, "I'd like a word."

"With me?" Sirius said with a knowing grin, "Alright." Sirius stood and led Morrigan into one of the quieter corners of the room, away from the relaxed and overzealous students alike, "So which word would you like? I can offer charming, suave, handsome, but not mediocre, I'm afraid that one's taken by Peter."

"You know the castle better than anyone, right?" Morrigan said, ignoring the prattishness, "Well, I've been looking for something and I can't find it. So if you could help I'd be...grateful."

"What exactly are you looking for?" said Sirius, strangely cautious.

Morrigan paid no attention to the question, "I've looked in all the obvious places – at least all the ones I find. But you'd know others. So..."

"So?"

"Will you help?" she pressed.

"It would help if I knew what I was looking for."

"It's a Key, but it doesn't look like a key, so I can't exactly tell you." Morrigan prevaricated, looking a little sheepish, "I, er, don't really know what it's supposed to look like myself."

"Helpful." Sirius muttered.

"And not my fault." Morrigan averred, "Honest."

"Miss Le Fay? Professor Dumbledore wants to see you. It sounds urgent." a timid third year said, oblivious to the conversation he was butting into between the sixth years.

"Why can't I complete one conversation with you without someone interrupting? We'll finish this later." Morrigan swore, and turned to leave the common room, questioning Dumbledore's heritage under her breath.

Ignoring the mild looks of interest from various students, Sirius went and sat back down next to Remus. He and James were pawing over the large sheet, and Sirius could see Moony's neat calligraphy dotting the map.

"What was that about?" James asked, as Remus stole the quill from his hand again to correct what looked like a badly-drawn Owlery.

"That is a _very_ good question. One I think we need to talk about." Sirius said, taking the quill from Remus to add a stick figure running away from a big dog along one side of the parchment, "Tomorrow. Marauders meeting."

"Can't." commented Remus, throwing his glance out of the window to the moon. It looked full, but since Remus was indoors rather than howling there must be a day before it finished growing.

"Following night?" offered James, tactfully ignoring the drawn conversation going on around the edge of the parchment.

A long-muzzled wolf chased a rather pathetic-looking dog, catching it in the corner of the sheet where the dog turned into a unsightly blot. This was then scribbled out and replaced by a wolf beating the dog over the head with what looked like a newspaper (how the wolf was holding the newspaper was a mystery). The newspaper turned into a pitchfork, then the whole thing scribbled out again. Finally, a group of four animals: wolf, dog, stag and splodgy rat, were carefully drawn, and the quill held firmly out of Sirius' reach.

"Following night." Remus and Sirius agreed.

"But tonight," continued Sirius, "I think I've got a few things to tell you about the Le Fays."

XOXOX

As she knocked on the door of Professor Dumbledore's office, Morrigan ran through all the possible things that could cause him to summon her.

"Come in."

She opened the door to find that Dumbledore wasn't alone in his office. He had been joined by a man she recognised all too well – Alastor Moody, Head Auror.

"Professor," Morrigan acknowledged with an incline of her head, "You asked to see me."

"Yes. Come on in, Miss Le Fay. Would you like a lemon drop? No?" Professor Dumbledore set the small dish back on his desk and turned to Auror Moody, "I believe you have already had the pleasure of meeting my guest – Alastor Moody."

"Auror Moody." Morrigan said, keeping her voice clear of tension and her face free of the slightest ray of annoyance.

"I take it you've seen this." Moody said gruffly, throwing a newspaper onto the table.

Morrigan drew it towards her and once again saw the article which had been so talked about throughout the school today. "Yes. I have. But I am uncertain what it has to do with me, sir." she said, deliberately sounding puzzled.

Moody threw a bundle of papers on the desk, opening them to a neatly penned report. "This is a report from one of our top Aurors. It states that the spell damage in Pickerington was 'more than any known witch or wizard could produce either on their own or in concert with others'. There is only one person with power like that in Britain.

"So what _I _want to know is what the Lady Le Fay was doing working with Death Eaters when her daughter is in our custody."

"Morrigan?" Professor Dumbledore asked, as she struggled to come up with a reply.

Morrigan's eyes stayed fixed on the report, her mouth half open, wanting more than anything to sink into the ground. "I don't know." she finally whispered.

"I find that doubtful." growled Moody, coming round the side of the desk to lean menacingly over her.

"If I knew why she was there, don't you think I would tell you?" Morrigan snapped.

"No. I don't think you would." Moody replied, "I think you're too busy to concern yourself with the lives lost out there!"

"You think I want people to die?" Morrigan yelled, standing from her chair.

"Alastor! Morrigan! Cease this at once!" Professor Dumbledore spoke swiftly, calmly but with great force.

Moody lowered his wand and stepped back reluctantly, the scowl remaining on his face. Dropping back into her seat, Morrigan turned to the Professor and asked, "If that was all, sir?"

"We're not done here." Moody said, crossing his arms.

"Actually, Alastor, I think you are. While Miss Le Fay is under this roof she is under my protection." Professor Dumbledore said warningly, "You may return to your dorm, my dear. Goodnight."

XOXOX

Upstairs in the dormitory shared by the Marauders Peter was pacing back and forth, a bundle of letters scrunched in his hand. At least twice a week since he had returned to Hogwarts following Christmas he had received a letter from his brother, Mark. Every one of them talked about the need to purify society, to allow the under-appreciated to take their place in the new system, and, most of all, about the role _he_ could play in all of this.

Though he had read all the letters, several times over, Peter couldn't make up his mind what the right course of action was. He had written back, trying to explain what he felt, but more often than not he ended up writing about his friends. The most recent letter, which had arrived that evening while he tried to memorise the new spell from Charms, had really confused him. It spoke of half-breeds, a term which Peter knew could apply easily to Remus. It said that: _"...these half-breeds who have been cast out of society, not allowed positions even in the most menial magical jobs, will in the new society have the certainty of a place. They will no longer been seen as..."_ It went on, and as he read Peter could only see how good things could be for Remus under this new order.

XOXOX

As Morrigan walked back she felt an undeniable presence shadowing her. It did not feel like her usual follower: this had a distinctly younger feel to it. She picked up her speed and, when she was sure she was out of sight for a moment, she slipped into the shadow of a doorway. Her stalker grew closer, and passed by silently. Morrigan smiled, she recognised the billowing robes and soft walk. Deciding to have a little fun, she wrapped herself in illusion and crept slowly after him.

It wasn't until he reached the stairwell, and couldn't see her anywhere, that a frown ghosted over Severus' face. He had been certain that she was ahead of him. Severus decided to return the way he had come just in case he'd missed her.

He stepped back startled, as the statue he had never noticed before at the top of the stairs changed, and Morrigan suddenly appeared beside him. She walked over and leaned on the banister overlooking the six flights of stairs.

"Good evening." she said softly.

"Good evening." Severus replied, dying to know when she had learnt a seventh-year spell.

"Were you looking for me?"

"I..." Severus began, "You knew I was following you."

"Who? Me?" Morrigan affected a look of surprise, "Now how would I know that?"

Looking down Severus could see the layers of stairs moving back and forth, some with prefects or teachers on. "Let's go somewhere less...exposed." he suggested.

XOXOX

Swinging her legs as she sat on the window-seat, Morrigan giggled as Severus demonstrated how he had successfully tricked the Marauders. They had spent a couple of relaxed hours trading little stories and discussing spell-theory.

That pins and needles feeling creeping up from her ankles, so Morrigan got up, but as she did her wand fell out of her pocket. She bent down to get it but Snape got there before her. Holding it lightly he frowned. The wand didn't feel like any others he had held, including his own. Normally there was a feeling of magical response; most prominent with his wand, naturally. But Morrigan's wand felt...dead, there was no other word for it.

Cocking an eyebrow at her Severus said, "This is a fake."

"Ah, erm, yeah." Morrigan admitted, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Why do you have a fake wand?" Severus asked, twirling the stick of ebony in his fingers. He then answered his own question, a curious light coming into his eyes, "You can do wandless magic."

"I wouldn't call it wandless -" Morrigan protested.

"You're able to do magic without a wand. Last I checked that _was_ the definition of wandless." Severus responded sarcastically.

"It's hardly my fault that wands have a habit of exploding in my hands." said Morrigan, with a petulant look turning into a smile as she went on, "For some unknown reason my magic interacts badly with the cores of most wands, and since I don't need one..." she gestured at the fake in Severus' hands.

"And the reason for having his at all," Severus waved the eight inch piece of ebony, "would be...that you don't want everyone finding out that you don't need one."

"Correct." nodded Morrigan, "Now can I have my fake wand back...please?"

Severus waved the wand thoughtfully, an air of slow decision around him, "No." he finally said, "I rather think not."

Sighing, Morrigan glanced up at the ceiling, her hands in a brief supplication to the heavens. This was where being friends with a sneaky Slytherin got you, she thought, pulled into a web of duplicitous dealings and intellectual knife-fights. Good thing she had Lily and the Gryffindors to balance it out. Or should that be lucky her for having the Slytherin around to counteract the recklessness of Sirius?

"What do you want?" she said calmly.

"Moi?"

"Yes, you." Morrigan emphasised her tone with a sweet smile. "Unless you see another person who knows so little so fluently?"

"Such a pretty gift for quotation, it is a serviceable substitute for wit." Severus sneered in return.

The pair glared at each other until the edges of smiles appeared around their eyes and mouths. Slowly Morrigan broke into a full gain and laughed, almost silently, for a moment. Severus looked smug but the twitching of his lips betrayed his own amusement; he rarely provoked Morrigan into insulting him, but when he did it was well worth it.

"Hand it over." Morrigan finally said, gesturing to the wand.

Severus shook his head and was delighted as Morrigan's face fell. If she was that concerned about disguising her magical ability he could bargain for a fair amount of information.

"What's it going to take for you not to tell the gossips about this?"

"The reason you're here." Severus said, "The _real_ reason, not the one you've told your...friends."

Morrigan leant back against the wall and covered her mouth with a curled index finger as she thought. "Done."

"Saturday. Astronomy Tower." Severus bowed, handing over the piece of ebony.

Morrigan pocketed the wand swiftly, raising a slim eyebrow as she said disbelievingly, "Really?"

The Astronomy Tower was well known for romantic meetings after hours, mainly because it had to be left unlocked for night-time classes. She had never thought that she would be going up there, and certainly not with Severus.

"Really." Severus confirmed, the look in his eyes daring her to make more of the location.

"You have an odd taste in-" Morrigan began, cutting off as she heard footsteps, "It's him."

"Till Saturday then." Severus whispered, before vanishing into the shadows and away.

XOXOX

**I would love to hear what you, the reader, thinks. **

**Review**


	11. Raven's Games

**Pureblood Dreams**

By Lilybet

**Chapter Eleven**

The first day of March dawned bright and clear, the first consistently sunny morning in months highlighting the spring green on the trees and the smattering of wild flowers in bloom. The Care of Magical Creatures class were enjoying themselves in groups of three or four as they hunted the forest's rat population with Jarveys. Under one of the beech trees near the lake Remus and Lily sat going through the week's Transfiguration lessons.

"-this was the bit I was having trouble with." Lily pointed out.

"She said that it required, um, forceful movements. That any hesitation would cause..." Remus trailed off as he flicked through the textbook lying between them.

In the distance the swooping figures of the Gryffindor Quidditch team could be seen practising. They had scraped a win from their match with Ravenclaw, but were now having to rush to train up a new seeker in time for the match against Hufflepuff. Martin had performed a beautiful crash-landing while successfully gaining both the snitch and a broken leg, but this hadn't hindered him for long. It was Flykers Flu that had him off his broom.

Lily's eyes kept straying over to the flyers, watching as a Chaser dived around bludgers and 'opposing' teammates, swerving in and out of bright globes of light – markers he had to avoid. She knew from the way in which the Chaser hugged the broom tight, streamlining his body, that it was James. No one else had that characteristic posture; no one could get as low on his broom as James.

A cough from Remus brought her back down to earth, and Lily flushed slightly before attending to what he was saying.

XOXOX

James ducked under the hurtling bludger and threw the Quaffle as hard as he could through the right hoop. As the ball fell down and Vince chased after it, James circled upwards to keep an eye on the rest of the team. They were all working hard: Willis was drilling the new Seeker while a pale orange Martin shouted advice from the sidelines; his fellow Chasers throwing the old Quaffle between them as the second bludger danced and dove around them; Vince throwing the Quaffle bac-

Catching the ball deftly he dove down and out of the way of the incoming Marcus Fox who was keeping an eye on both bludgers, just to make sure there were no more accidents. Spiralling up again, James darted in and out of the maze of lights that dotted the pitch. He swooped high above the stands, catching a glimpse of Lily's distinct red hair blazing under the lively green of the beech tree. Normally he would have spared her a thought, but with a Quaffle in his hands and the wind in his hair he felt free.

"COME ON JAMES!" shouted Vince, beckoning his Captain on with both hands off his broom.

Grinning wildly James dived again, a piercing whoop breaking forth as he pushed his broom to its speed limits. Back and forth he dodged, turning upside down in a sloth grip roll as the bludger powered overhead. Then with an almighty throw he launched the Quaffle from his hand, watching its progress even as he pulled his broom up.

"My mother could do better!" Vince grinned, holding the ball triumphantly by his fingertips.

"TEAM UP!" yelled James.

Vince's smile slipped from his face as the twins dropped the battered Quaffle, Willis dove for the sidelines where Martin was holding up his bat, and Fox hit the bludger he was tailing towards the Keeper. Vince dropped the Quaffle in his haste to avoid becoming a pancake, and one of the McReedy twins dove down to catch it before it hit the ground. Before the worried Keeper knew what was happening, the Chasers were passing the Quaffle between them as Willis and Fox battled both bludgers to his end of the pitch.

Drawing a double figure of eight around the three elevated hoops Vince watched as the ball changed hands. _McReedy, Potter, McReedy, other McReedy, Potter, dropped down to...Bludger! There...a McReedy ...no...wait...POTTER!_ Sharply darting back to the left hoop Vince stretched out his arm, keeping a very tight grip on his broom as he did. The Quaffle whistled through the air just beyond his fingers, but still a good yard from the hoop. Locking his ankles round his broom, Vince pulled hard, turning the broom through a complete semicircle, and almost dove off it.

Hanging from his locked ankles, Quaffle clutched firmly to his chest, Vince regarded the upside-down laughing team. James drifted over till he was at eye level with his Keeper.

"Need any help there?" he asked politely.

"Who, me? Oh, no. I'm quite alright. It's quite relaxing actually." Vince commented, wondering if the stands really were that shade of red.

"Nice move. Don't think it's in the rule book." James mused, attempting to pluck the Quaffle out of Vince's hands.

"I caught it, it's mine." said Vince distantly.

"He's passing out." James called, and Willis and Fox threw their bats over to a McReedy and took positions under the swinging boy.

"I am not." Vince protested, before his grip on the broom loosened, the Quaffle fell from his hands, and he was caught by the Beaters.

XOXOX

The man had once been very handsome, anyone could see that, but where a fine bone structure had highlighted fair skin and a charming smile it now made the face of the Dark Lord look overly gaunt. Yet even though the eyes gleamed red against milk-white skin, there was still an elegance, a grace which held a watcher's attention. Standing by the oval table, nodding as a Death Eater outlined the Ministry's latest move, Lord Voldemort's charisma commanded the mountain hall.

A great map of Great Britain lay on the table, key Ministry buildings lit by a white light. Small green Dark Marks hovered over victory sites, while red dots marked magical villages, schools and hospitals. Flicking his wand towards the map, Lord Voldemort altered the positions of a group of orange lights before motioning the Death Eater away.

Maeve Le Fay walked to his side, the dark aristocrats and sycophants clustered round the table parting before her. The velvet black dress she had chosen was cunningly embroidered in a silky black thread that gleamed and glimmered as she moved. From Lord Voldemort's position at the foot of the map Maeve could see the country laid out before her. From Cornwall to the Shetland Isles the land was shown in all its magical glory: hidden shops revealed, homes plotted and Quidditch pitches illuminated.

In one of the groups near Wales a blond haired young man muttered to his wide-shouldered compatriots. A smaller man nodded in agreement and nudged the blond. Taking a centring breath the blond headed over to where Maeve and Voldemort were exchanging quiet words.

"My Lord." he bowed, "May I have a word?"

"You may." acknowledged Voldemort, nodding to Maeve before turning and walking with the man away from the table.

Maeve leant over the table, her eyes on the map. Making a small hidden gesture with her hand she heightened her hearing, the better to eavesdrop on the conversation.

"My Lord, may I speak freely?" the blond asked.

Voldemort frowned lightly, the expression sitting strangely on his thin face. Nodding sharply he resisted the impulse to fold his arms in a defensive posture. Though he was sure of many of his followers allegiance to him, Voldemort was always aware that surrounding himself with ambitious wizards held its own dangers.

"It concerns the Lady," the Death Eater said, his eyes flicking over to where Maeve stood, "Some of have...questions regarding her presence here. She does not appear to support our aims-"

"Enough, Lucius." Voldemort held up his long-fingered hand, "Lady Le Fay is my ally."

"But, my Lord-" Lucius Malfoy unwisely interrupted.

A long yew wand appeared in Voldemort's hand, its tip trained on the unfortunate young man. Lucius stopped talking quickly, not daring to look into the Dark Lord's red eyes as he bowed his head and apologised. Voldemort was not a forgiving person by original nature, however, and his wand raised ready to chastise the twenty-three year old.

Maeve glanced over, and seeing the tension in the Dark Lord's back, hurried over. Placing a light hand on his arm, she smiled saying, "Problem?"

"Lucius here has an issue with you, my dear." Voldemort snarled, "Go on, explain to her your _concerns_."

Swallowing, Lucius spoke quietly, "I find it a little odd that though you claim to be working with us, you have yet to show this with your actions."

"You mean why haven't I been on a Death Eater raid yet?" Maeve said clearly, smiling unkindly, "It's simple really. I don't care about purity of blood, nor do I care about the influence of Muggles on the wizarding world. All you need to know is that Lord Voldemort is the only one who can see my desires fulfilled." She looked up at Voldemort with a gleam of that desire in her eye.

XOXOX

The infirmary was full that evening as Remus walked in; Flykers Spectral Flu was going round school like wildfire. The Flu turned the patient various rainbow shades while draining them completely of energy. Usually lasting only a few days, some people could have after-effects lasting weeks. And no-one wanted to go home at Easter with purple skin.

Luckily Remus, being a werewolf, was completely immune to Flykers Flu, so he only had to contend with his full moon feelings. As well as the normal jitters about the night's transformation there was a bubble of positive anticipation in his stomach. He hadn't felt like this since before sixth year had begun. The wolf inside was looking forward to the night; somehow it knew that things would be different tonight than the previous few months.

"Madam Pomfrey?" he called as he manoeuvred round the friends of a blue Hufflepuff.

"Oh, Remus." Madam Pomfrey sighed as she finished force-feeding a Gryffindor girl a nasty looking potion, "I'm completely run off my feet. Would you be a dear and fetch me some more Sleeping potions? They're on the third shelf."

"Of course, Ma'am." Remus said.

Walking slowly back round the Hufflepuff crowd, Remus slipped into Madam Pomfrey's office and then into the storage room where all the potions were kept. It was slightly cooler in there, and Remus sighed in relief as the temperature change momentarily relieved some of the pain in his bones. He could feel the stretching and contorting less than an hour away from becoming unbearable. Soon he would change.

He held his ribs tightly as he handed the potions to Pomfrey, trying to suppress a grimace at the shifting in his bones. Pomfrey was caught up in her work, easing the aching joints of one patient, calming the fever of another.

"Ma'am, I think I really need to head out." Remus said, restraining himself from snapping at the overworked matron.

"Hmm." Madam Pomfrey acknowledged absently, setting down her thermometer and picking up her wand.

Annoyance and anxiety rose in Remus; he had to get out of this room - packed with fresh meat and seductive smells. Shaking off the wolfish thoughts, he caught the matron's arm and forced her to look at him.

"Great Merlin! Remus, what are you doing...my goodness, we need to get going." Pomfrey jumped lightly, suddenly looking into his eyes and seeing the golden glow deepening. She turned to her Ravenclaw apprentice and instructed, "Sarah, see that those who aren't asleep get potions."

XOXOX

Peter hopped from foot to foot in the cold corridor as he waited for James to arrive under the invisibility cloak. Beside him Sirius lounged against the wall twirling his wand between his fingers, lost in thought. With all the information he had passed on last night to the others, he had the feeling that there was something he had forgotten. Shame he couldn't remember what it was.

"Would you stop doing that!" Sirius finally snapped, the sound of Peter's dance of warmth getting on his nerves and interfering with the thinking process.

"Sorry." Peter muttered, and he went to look round the corner again.

"You do realise you won't _see_ him coming, right?" Sirius asked, watching the behaviour.

"Oh. Yeah. I was just..."

"Out with it." demanded Sirius.

"What?" yelped Peter.

"Whenever you have something on your mind you do even more idiotic things than usual. Like looking for Prongs when he can't be seen. That's something you haven't done since third year." Sirius explained, waving his wand carelessly in the stout boy's direction.

Peter watched the tip of the deadly instrument move in front of his face, thinking about the pile of letters hidden at the back of his sock drawer. He was smart enough to know that if either Sirius or James got hold of them he would be in big trouble with his friends. His brother wasn't very good at hiding the derogatory comments towards Muggleborns, something James especially was vehemently against.

"Th-there's nothing on my mind." he stuttered.

"Huh. Really?"

"R-really."

The sound of a pair of footsteps coming round the corner diverted Sirius' attention away from the quivering boy, to the relief of Peter. A quick check round the corridor for any stray students on their way back from clubs or study groups, and Sirius darted under the cloak. Peter felt a poke in the small of his back and a whisper to get a move on. He momentarily wished that they were all still small enough to hide under the fantastical garment.

The moon was high and the ground soft underfoot as the door to the Quidditch gardens opened and closed. It was well after time for students to be out in the grounds, but footsteps in the mud and whispering betrayed the two hidden Gryffindors. Peter was currently scampering across the lawn in rat form. They had to be quick now, as James' escape had delayed them past moonrise. Remus would already have transformed, and in Sirius' mind this was not a good thing. Even the question of why Morrigan had helped James wasn't enough to take his thoughts away from what mood the werewolf would be in – a ripping tearing sort? Or maybe a chase the dog up a tree mood?

"He's not going to be happy." he muttered.

"It'll be fine. I'll be there." James reassured.

"Oh, wonderful. A deer is going to stand between me and the ravaging wolf." Sirius said sarcastically.

"A stag, thank you."

The Willow's branches stopped in their gentle swaying as they reached the tunnel entrance, and the boys followed Wormtail down the earthen passage. Near the end, when they could hear the scrabble of Moony's claws and his rumbling growl at being trapped, they cast off the invisibility cloak.

"If he kills me, say something nice at my funeral." Sirius said, before he transformed into the familiar big black dog.

James snorted, a sound which worked to convey a human sentiment even though he was already in stag form.

Padfoot approached the door to Moony's room cautiously, reaching up to open it with his paw. Before it was fully open a grey blur flew out and hit him hard. Legs and fur tangled and flew. Rolling over, Padfoot grappled with the larger beast, but the werewolf's longer limbs had him at a disadvantage. Suddenly, without any warning, Moony scampered backwards and let out a great howl – he was in a good mood after all!

Not waiting for things to change, Padfoot streaked off round the house, leaving Prongs to occupy the werewolf's attention. There was a large window on the ground floor where a couple of the boards were loose, and could be pushed off by a creature with dexterous paws. As soon as he was done he yelped loudly, and the others, led by Wormtail, came running.

As quickly as possible they were out and racing across the open spaces, their breath steaming in the cold air. Tousling and dancing they charged through the fields, leaving some very strange tracks behind them.

On the top of the Astronomy Tower, Morrigan watched as the branches of the Whomping Willow began to sway again. By the stars she judged that she had at least two hours before midnight and her meeting with Severus.

Turning her mind and magic deep within herself, she searched for that part that had another form. In an instant her form shifted, blurred and became vastly different from her usual humanoid self.

The moonlight glanced off the Raven's wings as it took flight from the castle tower, and soared towards the forest and Hogsmeade. Below, the creak of branches and the plaintive calls of owls could be heard. Onwards the Raven flew, its daylight eyes piercing the dark in the moon's bright glow. Then the sound of a wolf's howl broke the night, and the Raven turned its flight towards the cascading cry. Diving into the mottled woods, the Raven's senses searched out the source.

There, among the ancient trees, a strange group of animals played with the night. A proud stag, with a rat clinging to its back, was darting through the oaks. Following, sometimes chasing, sometimes playing, were two great loping canines.

As the Raven watched, the black dog darted in and nipped the flank of the much larger wolf-who-was-not-a-wolf.

A thought floated through the Raven's mind, trailed by a name, "Werewolf. Remus."

The werewolf turned and growled lightly at its companion, more a word of warning than a threat. They were pack, not enemies. With a flying leap, the werewolf suddenly launched itself forwards to grapple with the stag. Strangely it did not try for the killing bite, instead allowing magnificent beast to hold its ground. Tossing and bucking, the stag sent the rat flying as he turned his head and stabbed the wolf in the side with his antlers.

The wolf, thrown from the stag's back, didn't howl to call more allies to take down the prey. Instead the two canines, dog and wolf, barked happy laughter, and then they were all off again, running through the night to vanish into the darkness. The Raven fluffed its feathers against the cold, then, with a harsh cry, it took off from its perch and floated softly after the motley crew.

XOXOX

The moon was at its zenith as the Raven floated on silent wings back towards the castle. The grey stones glowed strangely as the reflected sunlight illuminated the castle against the star-strewn sky. A view rarely seen: Hogwarts from above, was shown to the bird as the cloud remained far away on the distant horizon. The greenhouses looked odd as the plants within moved like shadows; the Great Hall dwarfed by the towers surrounding it. There, on the other side of the hall, beyond a courtyard of broken darkness, the gothic stone filigree on the roof of the library took on shapes and forms unknown.

Beating its wings hard, the Raven climbed higher to achieve the Astronomy Tower. As its black eyes scanned the world around something began to glow on the library roof. Far from human sight the sharp light could have been mistaken for a broken piece of glass by any other animal. The Raven, curious, broke off its fight to reach the top of the tower and drifted over the twisted stone.

Ready to land and investigate this peculiar sight, a sound made the Raven turn and break out in a rough caw. On the tower it had set off from a dark figure could be made out against the pale stonework. Cursing, the Raven turned and flew back. Landing was tricky, but as the figure vanished behind the door-housing, it settled.

Looking inwards, the Raven swiftly located the creature within and called it forth. The feathers merged and fused together as the bird vanished and Morrigan took its place. Smoothing her warm robes, she stretched her neck, trying to get the last feeling of freedom and flight to leave her quickly. She had a Slytherin to tangle with, and the urge to throw herself off the tower was not helpful.

"Morrigan." Severus said with a trace of surprise in his voice, as he emerged from the darkness.

"Severus." she acknowledged, nodding slightly.

He folded his arms and raised an eyebrow, "I half expected you not to come."

"I keep my promises." she returned tightly, "Shall we get on with this?

"You don't sound too enthusiastic."

"Well, you did bully me into this." Morrigan pouted, sitting down between crenelations and scuffing the floor with her toe.

"I wouldn't call it bullying per se. More...coerced," Severus allowed a tiny smile to show, "You've got to admit I did a good job of it."

"Braggart." accused Morrigan, still pouting.

"Is one moment of glory too much to ask?" Severus said half-rhetorically.

"Do you want to hear what you came for before or after we freeze to death?"

"Please, it's not that cold." Severus sniffed, the sheen of ice that was forming on the flags deliberately overlooked.

"Says the boy who lives in the frigid dungeons." Morrigan muttered, "Well, I'm cold. So...you want the 'truth'? It's partially ancient history, partially politics.

"The long and the short of it is that the Ministry believes that the 'Dark Enchantresses' in the Le Fay family have interfered in things before, and that we're up to our old tricks again. They wanted to watch my mother like the proverbial hawk, but she's a tad difficult to control. So they decided to lure me out of the safety of Tintagel and make me into a hostage."

"A hostage?" Severus repeated.

"Yep." said Morrigan with false cheer. "It's a wonderful government, and I didn't even get to vote for them."

The wind began to whistle round the tower, picking the blossom off trees far below to throw it round in eddies and swirls. In the distance the howls of wolves could be heard, the forest scattering the cries till they came from all directions. Severus took a few starting breaths. Then, with an honest expression of confusion said, "I don't know what to say."

Morrigan smiled sadly, "Neither did I. If...if she does anything wrong, I...I don't know what they're planning to do with me but..."

"You don't want to find out."

"Not really, no."

Severus came up beside the girl who was sniffing and looking out towards the swaying forest. He hesitated slightly, comfort not being his forte, then placed a soft hand on her shoulder. Morrigan rubbed her face and looked up at him, "I'm alright. Really. I just...wish I had some way of knowing what's going on."

"I understand that." Severus said softly.

As the moon shone down and the last edge of the winter winds brought a chill with them, the sound of footsteps rose up from the open stairwell. In an instant the self-pity had been replaced by a frantic look on Morrigan's face.

Severus too heard the footsteps, and after sharing a look with Morrigan knew there was only one person who would be following her around – Professor Buskist.

"Ministry?" he asked quickly.

She nodded, running a nervous hand through her hair. Up here there was nowhere to hide, and no way to escape. Though she could escape from the tower by transforming, revealing _that_ fact was definitely on her 'Things NOT to do list'.

Even thinking quickly, Severus couldn't see a way out. Then, like a fire flickering into life, a thought occurred to him. It probably wasn't the best option, and now certainly wasn't the time, but it was the only way. "Do you trust me?" he asked.

"What do you think!" Morrigan muttered, focusing on the stairwell and the sound that was getting closer.

"Then know this means nothing."

A shadow in the flickering torchlight became a Professor emerging from the long climb up the Astronomy stairs. Before the Professor could see them properly, Severus spun Morrigan slightly and, placing one hand at the back of her neck, the other round her waist, kissed her firmly.

Morrigan's head swam, and for a moment she had no idea what to do. Then natural instincts kicked in and her hands found Severus' slim but firm chest. One hand slipped up and into his tangled hair, the kiss deepening. Neither one of them remembered what it was they were trying to achieve, so caught up in the emotions that the simple act had started.

A cough from their onlooker roused them from their emotional haze, and both turned flushed and slightly guilty faces towards the Professor. On seeing her they immediately stepped back from each other, muttering words of denial and confusion, smoothing clothes and hair needlessly.

"If you two are quite done, I think a detention apiece and twenty points off both Slytherin and Gryffindor." said Professor Sprout, a frown on her face if not entirely in her voice, "The Astronomy Tower _is_ out of bounds, after all."

XOXOX

**Shocked? Review.**

**AN: **Minor edits post first publishing.


	12. Lucius' Speech

**Pureblood Dreams**

By Lilybet

**Chapter Twelve**

"You were back late last night." commented Aaron Yaxley as he caught up with Severus on the way to Sunday lunch, "Later than normal."

"Yes." said Severus, avoiding looking over at the Gryffindor table as they walked into the Hall.

"Your project is going well?" Aaron asked quietly.

"My – Yes. In fact, I've finished it." Severus latched onto the distraction, "When is the next meeting?"

They sat down near the end of the Slytherin table, Aaron nodding to his friends and fellow prefects among the upper years. Pulling the roast beef and Yorkshire puddings towards him, Aaron leaned over to where Hadrian Roxley, the seventh year prefect, was sitting and murmured a question. Hadrian looked past him to Severus and sneered, then muttered something in return.

"There's going to be one tonight...Snape, don't mess it up." Aaron warned.

"I won't." Severus promised, determined to prove his worth beyond doubt.

On the other side of the hall Morrigan sat with her head in her hands, staring at her empty plate. Across the table Alice and Lily exchanged worried looks. Ever since she had come back to the dorm late last night, escorted by Professor Sprout, Morrigan had been distant and melancholy. Not even Sirius coming downstairs that morning with green hair and pink jeans could raise a smile from her.

"Morrigan, what's wrong? And don't say nothing, please." Lily begged.

Morrigan muttered something unintelligible into her hands, and what could be seen of her forehead started turning an interesting red.

"What was that?" Lily pressed.

"You know, Lily, I heard from Bertha that a couple were caught up on the Astronomy Tower last night." Alice said in an aside, stabbing another roast potato happily.

"Really?" said Lily, sounding like the cat that got the cream.

"Mmm hmm."

"Sooo..." Lily fixed her vivid green stare on Morrigan's dark head and waited for a reply.

Finally Morrigan looked up and took her fingers away from her mouth, "He kissed me."

"Who?" Alice jumped on the admission. She still regarded Morrigan as a little odd, but gossip was gossip, and for all her intelligence and hard work, Alice loved gossip.

"Not saying." Morrigan said, turning a violent shade of red that did not go with the light green top she was wearing. Deliberately looking away from the interested girls, she spotted Severus on the other side of the hall. Feeling her face warm up even more as blood rushed to her head, Morrigan wrenched her gaze away and muttered a quick apology before darting from the Hall.

"What was that?" exclaimed Alice, waving a fork after the girl.

"That was a very red girl." Sirius slid into the seat Morrigan had just vacated, "Don't tell me _she's_ got the flu now. James woke up all yellow this morning, not a pretty look."

"Says the boy with green hair." Lily smirked.

Sirius reached up and tugged on a lock of his lime green hair, "I can't seem to get it out. I've tried the normal de-hexing..." A thoughtful look arrived in his eyes and he pulled out his wand, waved it around his head in a complicated pattern and said clearly, "_Nulio Enchantium._"

"That's not a real spell." Alice said, but a puff of fine smoke around Sirius' head and the revelation of a head of black hair suggested otherwise.

"You're right." Sirius commented, piling his plate with the Sunday roast, "It's the counter to a really idiotic spell that James came up with in second year. I can show you if you like."

"NO!" cried both Lily and Alice.

There was an eating silence as lunch was consumed, both girls keeping an eye on Sirius just in case he decided that cursing them was a good idea after all. After Sirius' third helping of beef and sixth Yorkshire pudding, Lily cleared the last of the gravy off her plate with a thoughtful look.

"You said Potter was ill..." she began, ignoring the astounded look from Alice.

"He's yellow at the moment." Sirius replied, looking over at the entrance, "Actually...he's more a yellowy-orange. PRONGS! OVER HERE!"

James, followed by Remus and Peter, came over and sat down by Sirius, a slightly queasy expression on his face.

"Pomfrey said that until I turn red I'm to stay out of the infirmary. Apparently there's so little room in there she's only taking serious cases." he said, looking speculatively around at the food.

"How does she know if you're going to be a serious case?" asked Lily, to the surprise of the boy.

"I've never had flu before." James admitted, shaking his head at Sirius' proffered potato.

"Should you really be sitting with us though?" Alice suggested, shifting down the bench slightly, away from the infected boy, "Aren't you going to make _us _get it?"

"I've already had it." said Sirius, with his mouth full, "Summer of second year."

"I haven't." worried Peter.

Lily looked at Remus who shrugged; he knew less about Flykers flu than he did about Dragon Pox, another disease he couldn't contract. She frowned, not liking the possibility that she could go down with the two-to-three day illness. Exams were only four months away, and these would be mock NEWTs!

"According to Pomfrey it's only contagious in the later stages – purple-ish down to green. That's why she let Martin and me out." James said helpfully, picking a slightly cold Yorkshire pudding off Sirius plate and pulling it to pieces as he ate, "Oh, and Padfoot, you can catch it again."

"What?"

"Too bad, Sirius." Remus consoled, selecting the rarest pieces of beef he could find; his only concession to the just-waning moon.

"Damn it. Orange looks worse on me than it does on him." Sirius jerked his thumb in James' direction.

"Mmm, it would certainly clash with your trousers." sniggered Lily.

Sirius looked down at his pink jeans and then back up at Lily with a hurt expression, "Don't pick on me 'cause I'm different." he mock-sobbed.

"We don't." James consoled, "We pick on you because you're you."

The banter worked back and forth, the atmosphere oddly calm without James asking Lily out, or Sirius turning into a pumpkin. For the first time in almost six years the Marauders and their natural enemies within Gryffindor sat and laughed together. When Frank Longbottom stopped by to give Alice a kiss and remind them of their date that evening, he was invited for pudding. And though most of the cream from the sumptuous cake ended up in his hair, he didn't seem to mind. Lily even unbent enough _not_ to give Sirius a lecture on the proper use of the levitation charm.

When the last of the puddings had been consumed, James had eaten his way through twelve jellies - claiming that since he was ill he was allowed jelly and icecream in large amounts. Sighing heartily, he smiled as Lily explained in a mildly annoyed tone that that much jelly wasn't good for anyone.

"I don't care." he said happily, "It was good."

"Well, now I've seen everything." declared Frank, his arm comfortably round Alice, "I have never seen a man eat that much jelly before."

"Potter does a lot of things that are unimaginatively stupid." scowled Lily.

"Aww, come on Lily. It's not like he's done any harm." defended Alice, "Besides I thought it was rather funny seeing him eat the one shaped like a-"

"And this is where I take my impressionable girlfriend away from the crazy Marauders." Frank interrupted, "Catch you later guys."

As Lily turned back to the table, after whispering something in Alice's ear before she left, she suddenly realised that she was sitting with the most infamous pranksters in Hogwarts. Correction: she was sitting _alone_ with the most infamous pranksters in Hogwarts.

"You know, I think I'm just going to..." She got up.

"Hold on, Evans." Sirius said, stopping her short, and he turned to the others, "I've had an idea."

"Is it a crazy idea?" asked Peter, "Or one that involves large amounts of turpentine?"

"Turpentine?" said James, with a blank look in his eyes.

"No turpentine." confirmed Sirius, with a matching look, "And only slightly crazy. Evans, sit."

Reluctantly Lily sat down, and watched as the four boys had an argument that apparently consisted of meaningful looks and odd words. She wondered what would happen if she tried to walk away, but decided that even her Prefect status wasn't protection against the band of troublemakers. She privately doubted that James would stick up for her at the moment, even if he had been cordial towards her this lunchtime.

Eventually the debate on the other side of the table concluded, and Sirius turned to her and said, "Miss Lily Evans. We, the Marauders, do invite you to a meeting of the utmost secrecy and importance. On the occasion of your attendance you will be party to most, but not all of the secrets that we, the Marauders, hold. Do you accept?"

"Er, why?" she said while scrutinising their faces for any hint of mischief.

A hasty conference was held between James and Sirius, the result being: "For purposes that are in no way related to pranks, tricks or anything to do with the creation of chaos within Hogwarts."

"Though this may be subject to change at further notice." James added.

"What exactly is the subject of this meeting?" Lily asked, still not willing to believe that it wasn't a trap.

"The walls have ears." hissed Sirius, leaning over the table.

"What he means is that we don't want to say here. We'll tell you at the meeting. Say yes?" explained James with a hopeful look.

Normally Lily would have been able to resist that particular look; it had been used on her so often over the past few years, in fact, it had come up almost every time James asked her out. But at the moment she still felt really bad about how she had hurt his feelings in handing back the Christmas present. Somehow that look wasn't frustrating and annoying; it was actually oddly sweet and slightly...cute? Potter, cute? No. Oh, _please_ no, she begged internally.

James watched as Lily bit her lip, clearly thinking hard, her stunning green eyes locked on his face. He dared not move a muscle just in case it disrupted her thinking; maybe she would say yes. Meanwhile, he allowed himself to wonder what it would be like for those eyes to show not confusion, but something more...sultry.

"Alright." Lily said, coming to a conclusion; better to be in the know than not. Besides, she wouldn't be going in with her eyes closed, she'd be on the look-out for traps, "But, I have a condition."

"Oh?" Sirius questioned, the frown on his face matched by the one on hers.

"Alice has to come too." she demanded.

"Alice?" Peter blurted.

The boys went back into the huddle, Peter pulled in by James. A few moments went by, and Lily could see that Sirius was the most violent objector to Alice's involvement. She heard something about, "...one's bad enough...", that did not make her feel happy.

"Fine." Sirius said sulkily, as they broke from their conference. "Alice can come too. But only her, no one else. Got it?"

"Got it." she said, holding up her hands to defend against his attitude, "When is this meeting?"

"Tonight," said Remus, "We'll go for a little walk and I'll take you to it."

XOXOX

When James Potter kicked off from the ground to test out his new Quidditch tactic against Sirius and felt queasy he knew that he wasn't well. When he couldn't get more than ten feet off the ground without feeling dizzy he knew things were going downhill fast. When Sirius came over to him, as James came back to earth with a bump, and stopped five feet away, he looked at his skin. It was red.

So it was that when Remus, with Peter in tow, went looking for the pair he found them in the infirmary. James lying curled up with his eyes firmly closed, and Sirius examining his own skin under the dim lights of the infirmary.

"I've told you, Sirius, that if you've had Flykers flu already, you're more resistant to it. If you stay _out_ of the infirmary there's a very good chance that you won't catch it." Madam Pomfrey said in an exasperated tone, "Now please leave."

"What happened?" asked Remus, as Sirius said something about not wanting to leave his friend alone.

"James went down with the flu faster than I predicted." said the matron, "And if this one would _get out of my way_ I would be able to give him a Sleeping Draught."

"Come on Sirius, let's leave James to rest." Remus suggested. He tugged on Sirius' arm, but underestimated his strength and ended up with an armful of Sirius. Fighting the pink-jeaned boy off him, Remus scowled only to receive a cheerful grin in reply.

Peter edged towards James and patted him lightly on the shoulder, whispering, "Get well soon."

As he turned away Madam Pomfrey caught his arm, and he cringed slightly as she examined his hand, "How long have you been this colour, Mr. Pettigrew?" she asked.

Looking down at his own skin, Peter blinked in shock as he saw the orange tinge. He hadn't noticed as his skin had slowly changed colour from his normal pink. And neither had anyone else. For a moment he felt a burst of hatred and anger towards the others; they were supposed to be his friends, and they hadn't noticed he was getting ill. Just as suddenly as it had arrived the anger was gone. They had been busy: Remus was working on his homework, James on Quidditch tactics, and Sirius had been perfecting his juggling. He couldn't expect them to keep an eye on him the whole time...

"I don't think I woke up like this." he offered to Pomfrey, who immediately waved her wand over him and ordered him into a nearby bed.

"Well, that's not good." Sirius said, "We can't be two men down!"

"Sorry." muttered Peter.

"You have nothing to apologise for, Mr. Pettigrew, you can't help getting ill. Now, I'm going to get you and James a Sleeping Draught. These," she presented him with a set of infirmary pyjamas, "are for you. Sirius, Remus, I think it's time you let these boys rest."

"Yes, Ma'am." Remus agreed, half-dragging Sirius as he left the room.

XOXOX

It was not easy to see who was in charge as the two sixth-year Gryffindors entered the common room. Though Remus still had an almost bruising grip on Sirius' arm, the lupine boy was getting his ear talked off, and with his more sensitive hearing even the whispers were loud. Lily made her way over to where they were headed, near the boys staircase. On seeing her, Sirius redoubled his efforts and Remus winced, letting go of Sirius to rub his ear.

"What's going on?" Lily asked quietly.

"James has gone and got himself ill." Sirius complained.

"Both he and Peter have got to the red stage of the flu. They're confined to the infirmary for the next two days, at least." Remus said.

"Are they alright?" Lily worried.

"At the tender mercies of Pomfrey." Sirius sighed, "Which means the meeting's off. Unless..."

"No, Sirius. We are not going to sneak into the Hospital Wing. We are, however, going to wait until James is better." Remus said firmly.

XOXOX

Deep in the bowels of the castle, down in the dungeons behind firmly closed doors another meeting was taking place. Green ties mixed with a smattering of yellow, and one or two blue, conversing, exchanging information and determining status. A light cough from the front of the room drew the attention of all, and silence arrived.

"As I am sure you are all aware, another series of successful raids were carried out last night." announced the speaker to polite but enthusiastic applause. He held up his hands in a call for silence.

"But though that is an event to be celebrated, it is not the only reason we are here tonight. Our most...industrious member has completed a new spell which he would like to show us. Now, now, settle down." he said with a light sneer, "Please remember what he has already given us – new potions and spells which well prove most delightful on the day we join our brothers and sisters out there.

"Make some room in the centre. Excellent. Now, if you please, Mr Snape."

Severus stepped into the space created, his heart pounding in his chest as he held the shaking wooden crate tightly. Setting it down in the centre of the circle he prepared mentally for the task ahead. Signalling to his fellow sixth-year Slytherins, a repelling circle was set up around him and the crate. Severus leant over the crate and opened it up, letting the scared rabbit inside out. It sat beside the box for a moment, its nose twitching and ears pricked. Then it started hopping around the circle, growing more and more agitated as it was turned back from escape.

Drawing his wand, Severus followed the rabbit's erratic movements with his eyes and wand tip. When he was certain he was ready, he slashed his wand down in a sharp diagonal motion.

"_Sectumsempra!_" he said quietly but clearly.

The rabbit jumped and fell, writhing to the ground, its fur and flesh broken and bleeding. A single straight wound had opened up from throat to belly, and its mouth opened in a loud squeal that penetrated the murmuring excited crowd.

Kneeling down beside the animal, Severus traced his wand over the wound, muttering a long string of Latin. Before the assembled eyes of those who enjoyed the Dark Arts, the rabbit's bleeding slowed and stopped, the fleshy sides of the wound pulling together and joining up. Within a few moments the flesh had knitted and the rabbit's cries died. It sat up and washed its ears, then realising where it was, resumed its attempts to escape.

"_Stupefy_." muttered Severus, and the rabbit fell limp. He levitated it back into its crate and closed the lid. It was only then that he heard the whispers of praise and scattered applause.

"Congratulations, Snape." Hadrian Roxley stepped forwards, "An impressive display. And now, our speaker for the night has arrived, so if you would all take a seat..."

Severus picked up the crate and placed it carefully in the corner of the room, Yaxley, Avery and Nott joining him. They surrounded him and offered their own congratulations; they had all seen how hard Severus had been working on the spell – spending three or four nights a week hidden away in his work room at the top of the castle. They had even had to force him to get some sleep, and eat occasionally, when he involved himself so thoroughly that he forgot all else.

The sound of a gong brought them to attention, and they slipped into the last remaining seats near the back of the room. Up at the front Hadrian was looking very smug as he spoke to a hooded and cloaked man. With a last word he turned to face the avid audience and announced, "Please welcome out speaker, Mr Lucius Malfoy."

The polite applause was more than enthusiastic, and Severus was glad that there were near-permanent muffling charms on the corridor and surrounding rooms. If any teacher or other student heard and came to investigate there would be a lot of uncomfortable questions.

Lucius Malfoy bowed at the clapping, and then held up his hand for silence. Nodding to Hadrian, who had taken his seat in the front row, Lucius began to speak.

"I thank you for your welcome. We have suffered a great tragedy, yet few recognise it. We are descending into a political, ethical and moral wasteland. The highest circles of our government regard this collapse of our society as primarily an 'economic catastrophe', which can therefore be cured by economic means. The cure of a sickness can only be achieved if its cause is known, and the same is true of curing political evils.

"What is the cause of the degradation of our wizarding world? What is it that lowers our pride and bends our wills to the acceptance of the present evil? Was not the stance of this new government embroidered with the lie that it would allow the wizards of England to prevail both at home and abroad?

"It is this very government, it is their words: the sanctimonious speechifying that espouses lies and conscious falsehoods which has brought us to this. Their constant disregard for the moral and ethical well-being of their people has brought us to our ruin. Trust me when I tell you that I would not waste my words on them if their own words were not parroted by so many thoughtless people. But we deserve this government. It is only the greatest outward symptom of decay amid a whole series of inner problems, which perhaps had remained hidden and invisible to the eyes of most people, or which, like ostriches, people did not want to see.

"Since the great masses of the people in the very bottom of their hearts tend to be corrupted rather than consciously and purposely evil they more easily fall a victim to a big lie than to a little one. Their whole belief is based on one single great lie, to wit, that all men are equal."

Lucius paused, allowing the clapping to rise and the shouts of support to swell as he took a much-needed drink. This audience was very receptive to the carefully crafted speech set out by himself and his father. He took the time to note the faces he recognised in the room; representatives from all the major Pureblood supporters were here, along with a number of those whose minds would be swayed by his words this night.

In the back he spotted the dark head of Severus Snape, cheering and clapping with the rest; there was one Half-blood he would happily see on his side. Especially if his performance tonight was anything to go by. He had certainly maintained his interest in the Dark Arts throughout his years at Hogwarts, and Lucius would be prepared to speak privately to him about the cause.

Holding up his hand for silence, Lucius began again, this time with growing fire in his voice.

"We have before us the results of procreation based partly on purely social compulsion - a poisoning of the blood. Complete and utter degeneration is the only consequence. Blood sin and desecration of the race are the original sin in this world and will be the end of a humanity which surrenders to it. I am speaking of those pretenders, those tricksters and charlatans – Mudbloods! They have sullied the name of wizard, they have poisoned our way of life with their foul ways.

"Out there, beyond these four walls, are those who believe the lie which are government has told. They believe the words of the press, who told them that these wretches were just...like...us! In doing so they have allowed these Mudbloods to maintain themselves in the Ministry and gradually undermine the foundations of wizardry itself.

"This disease of magic has been further promoted by education. Our fine Hogwarts has been complicit in this. The education of young witches and wizards has been one-sided, adapted to 'ability' rather than 'worth'. Education can be a highly useful tool, but only can it be advantageous when enlightenment is provided by a serious and truth-loving party, but it is catastrophic when scoundrels and liars provide it.

"Currently Hogwarts removes people from the instinct of Nature and pumps a certain amount of knowledge into them, but cannot create full understanding. For this, industry and good will alone are no use; the necessary intelligence must be present, and what is more, it must be inborn.

"The solution to this is clear, there is only one solution: the final solution which will free us from the tyranny of the undeserving. Indeed, the demand that defective people be prevented from propagating equally defective offspring is a demand of the clearest reason, and if systematically executed represents the most humane act of mankind. It will spare millions of unfortunates undeserved sufferings, and consequently will lead to a rising improvement of the wizarding world as a whole."

Concluding to wild cheers, Lucius smirked. Every one of the students in the room would be willing followers of the Dark Lord, every one of them prepared to do what was needed to restore magic to its rightful place, and purity of blood would be the most important thing again.

XOXOX

Remus woke up suddenly at the feel of a cold damp thing pressing against his hand. Warily opening his eyes he jerked backwards; the black furry face of Padfoot was grinning not two inches from his own.

"Go 'way." he slurred, turning his head over and trying to regain his fugue of sleep.

The scrabbling sound and low whine forced Remus to open one eye. Once again the doggy face of his friend was presented to him in all its slobbery glory. Groaning, Remus lifted his head, pulled the pillows out and then flopped back down, pillows firmly held over his head.

He was just drifting off to an overly warm and airless place of dozing when a heavy weight landed on his middle.

"Get off!" Remus' voice was muffled by the pillow, and he pushed at the furry lump lying on him. Padfoot was heavier than he looked, with most of his bulk made up not from hair but from muscle. It was what made him invaluable at full moons, but right now Remus wished Padfoot was a poodle or a chihuahua.

Lifting the pillow off his face, Remus twisted round to hit Padfoot with it. "Shift, you great mongrel! Get off and leave me alone!"

Padfoot yipped as the pillow whacked him round the head. Jumping off the person-filled bed he landed securely on the floor, transforming back into Sirius as he did. It was a neat trick that he had perfected for no apparent reason.

"Remus!" he whined, sounding exactly like his doggy form, "You have to get up, it's the start of the Quidditch season! The lists will be coming out today. If we don't get down there now we won't know before anyone else!"

"And this is a good reason to wake me up and jump on me, why exactly?" Remus said, re-fluffing his pillow and placing it under his head.

"Because it's Quidditch." said Sirius stoically.

"Ah." Remus sighed at the perennial obsession which took over both Sirius and James at this time of year. He had grown used to it, though normally they had each other to bounce their excitement off. It looked like this year he was the chosen target; the next few weeks he would undoubtedly get to know more about the sport than he had ever wanted to know.

"So...Get up already!" Sirius grinned, and launched himself at Remus' duvet. Remus tried to hang on to his covering, and the tug of war would have continued for ever if he hadn't realised that Sirius was completely off balance. Letting go suddenly, he laughed as Sirius fell to his bottom, the duvet flying over his head to cover him completely.

XOXOX

**Phew! Long chapter. Review.**


	13. Fireworks

**Pureblood Dreams**

By Lilybet

**Chapter Thirteen**

A couple of days had passed since James and Peter had got themselves stuck in the infirmary, and Sirius was in a moderately bouncy mood. On the one hand his favourite team, Pride of Portree, were doing very well, beating off their first opponents easily. On the other, he had no one to argue with about their performance. Remus was doing as well as he could, but normally he stayed buried in a thick book for the duration of the season. Plus, arguing with Remus about anything felt a bit like putting the frying pan back into the fire deliberately. Not a good move.

Still, Sirius had gathered a great deal of information about the Le Fay mystery, and had some tentative ideas which he had been sharing with Remus. In turn Remus had displayed a remarkable interest in the mystery, vanishing into the depths of the library when Sirius wasn't looking.

There was just one thing missing from his day (aside from poor Prongs) and that was pranks.

"Moony?" he interrupted Remus' reading.

"Padfoot."

"What do you think of fireworks?"

"Fireworks?" asked Remus, slightly bemused as he put his book down, "I think they're loud and colourful, and very dangerous in your hands. Why?"

"Because I think Prongs would appreciate them." Sirius said, pulling out a catalogue from somewhere to flick through.

"He may well, but as much as Madam Pomfrey likes us I'm sure she would object to us setting off fireworks in the infirmary."

"Yes." Sirius nodded, "That's why we set them off outside."

Remus blinked, then asked, "Is this one of your plans that involve breaking curfew, sneaking outside, doing something dangerous, and then running away very quickly?"

"Something like that." Sirius said unabashed, "I was thinking of the latest results in lights."

"You do realise that we don't have a look-out?" said Remus, wondering briefly why he had already included himself in the plan when he was supposed to be the sensible one. "Also, that many fireworks are going to need more hands than we have."

"A valid but irritating point." Sirius said, shoving the catalogue at Remus. He had circled a likely looking set of fireworks ('Easy to Charm') which between them they could afford.

"Hmm... These look good, but it doesn't solve the problem."

"One step at a time, dear Moony." Sirius wagged his finger.

"I would have thought that having the right number of people would be the first step." Remus muttered, going back to his book.

"I'll find them, you'll see. Tomorrow night, during the Kestrels Vs Magpies match. Everyone knows I never listen to the Kestrels' matches. I mean, honestly, they had their day in the fifties, now they just use the same old moves and..."

Remus tuned him out as the boy started rambling on about the ins-and-outs of a game he had no desire to understand.

XOXOX

It was the night after the day before, and Lily was standing by the portrait hole with Alice wondering how she had found herself in this mess. Somehow between them, Sirius and Remus had convinced her that this late night excursion was not strictly breaking any rules, and (more importantly) that they had as much chance of getting caught as bees had of flying in straight lines. This did not give her much confidence, and certainly did nothing to deal with the strange feeling she had inside knowing that she was about to break rules _for_ _James Potter_.

"Ready to go?" asked Sirius, bounding down the stairs and into the full common room. Everyone was crowded round the Wireless as the pre-match commentary drew in listeners.

"You don't need to make it quite so obvious." Lily hissed.

"Oh come on, Lils," Sirius joked, ignoring the hiss from her at the shortening of her name, "The only strange thing here is you girls."

"Sadly, he's right." said Remus, joining the group with a large, heavy-looking, box under his arm.

"Fine." said Lily grumpily, "Let's just get this over with, shall we?"

"After you..." Sirius grinned.

XOXOX

The cracks of apparation resounded around the stadium as the black robed figures burst into view. Above, the Quidditch players stalled and paused in their game, their attention caught by the menacing air which every one of the men and women bore. A bludger sailed past the emerald robed Chaser O'Kieff, ignored in favour of the blur of darkness that was swiftly forming into a man.

Stepping forth from the dark cloud, the ghastly white face and bright red eyes of Lord Voldemort took in the sight. Thousands of supporters of a sport he had never understood, never wanted to understand. Holding out his hand the darkness behind him coalesced, and he felt the firm hand of the only other to wear their true face on this mission. Maeve shook back her black hair and looked up; the emerald robes of one side and black and white of the other dotted the overcast sky.

With a wave of the Dark Lord's hand the forces of darkness were unleashed upon the stadium. Screams rose up as the Death Eaters slashed their way through the ranks of fleeing supporters, children to young to go to Hogwarts clinging to parents as their voices rose in fear.

O'Kieff took in the situation with a glance and with a swooping motion, gathered all the fraught attentions of the sky-high players.

"Wands at the ready, attack from above!" he yelled, "Hawkshead formation!"

Diving down, the combined teams flew with spells upon lips, scattering the groups of Death Eaters. Again and again they fell with deadly accuracy from the sky, using all their professional skills to avoid being hit by the retaliating fire.

In the stands a group of supporters gathered round an off-duty Auror, following his instructions as they defended those who fled. Shields were raised and felled, spells fired with bright lights across the space. On the pitch the Death Eaters were well practised, forming squares as they held firm against the defenders.

Bludgers rained down from above, the beaters forcing them into the consolidated dark wizards, but the Death Eaters didn't falter. Onwards they made their way, Voldemort at their head, picking out his victims with care as he made the Mudbloods and sympathisers dance with horrific screams. Blood streamed from cuts and curses, defiant words mutated easily into desperate yells and bubbling pleas.

Maeve looked up and frowned as she saw the Kenmare Kestrels form up again, the spells from her surrounding Death Eaters failing to shoot them out of the sky. With a whispered word and a swift gesture the Kestrels fell, their brooms snapped to kindling. Most of them hit the ground hard, their bodies broken and bleeding. O'Keiff, the gold band around his arm denoting his captaincy, stopped eight feet from the ground, arms outstretched as he prayed the ground would be kind.

The descending cries caught Voldemort's attention and he looked round to see his favoured one cocking her head at the frightened Captain. Cutting the screams of his latest victim short with a swift killing curse, he walked calmly over. He stepped lightly over the corpses that now littered the pitch and placed a light hand on Maeve's shoulder.

"My Lady?"

"I've done as you have asked," she whispered, "And I see no good in it."

"Not yet," Voldemort agreed.

He beckoned a nearby Death Eater over, the wizard's size marking him out from the rest. With a well-rehearsed motion Voldemort lifted the left sleeve of the midnight robes the man wore, and pressed the mark that was etched into the skin. Instantly the other Death Eaters turned and moved back to their Lord's side, leaving their victims to live or die as fate decreed.

"Are the allies of those who would oppose us destroyed?" he asked.

"As many as could be found." bowed a slim figure.

"Good. Leave us." Voldemort praised, his thin smile twisted. The Death Eaters apparated away, leaving Voldemort and Le Fay alone on the pitch with the screams and groans. "Maeve."

"I don't see how this-"

"We agreed. I will tell you everything I know about the key. Kill him," he ordered, before placing a hand on her shoulder and whispering, "They are followers of Merlin, and would see you fail. They would destroy your family. Your daughter..."

Maeve's jaw locked and she raised both hands. With a controlled gestures she span the captured O'Keiff till he was standing in the air, arms still outstretched. His wand fell helplessly from his hand but a fierce look of pride came over his face.

"You will never win." he spat.

"That is where you are wrong, little man. We have already won." Voldemort hissed, as Maeve moved her hands wide.

O'Keiff felt the toned muscles in his body begin to stretch, his joints aching as they were pushed past their limits. A groan escaped his lips, the dull ache moving to searing pain. Still Maeve increased the distance between her palms, a bright look in her eye betraying her anger that Voldemort was inducing with his still whispered words.

"Now!"

With a sharp hissed word, Maeve let the force in her hands go, pulling them apart with a ferocity that made the Dark Lord smile. Above her a red rain began to fall, the tatters of emerald robes spinning down to earth.

"_Morsmordre!_" Voldemort incanted, shooting the Dark Mark high into the air.

The echoes of the two disapperating cracks ran round the pitch and melted away leaving only the helpless whimpers of survivors, the moans and cries for mercy.

XOXOX

Morrigan stood in the shadowy entrance hall, her foot tapping the slate floor as she waited. She looked particularly elegant, dressed in her finest robes, her hair swirling down around her face artfully. But her expression was far from happy as she sighted the Defence Professor accompanying Auror Moody down the stairs.

"And here I was thinking you wouldn't turn up." sneered Buskist.

"Charles." warned Moody, before asking Morrigan, "Are we going to have any trouble from you?"

"None whatsoever." Morrigan replied through clenched teeth.

With one adult on either side of her, Morrigan Le Fay was led from Hogwarts towards the waiting carriage on the other side of the gates. Thoughts flitted through her mind as she walked steadily; she could escape and join her mother at the Dark Lord's camp, and end up spending the rest of her life persecuted and on the run. The only thing she could hope to do now was to face the coming days and weeks with courage and dignity; with her head held high.

Upstairs in the Gryffindor Tower Lily watched as Morrigan walked away from Hogwarts. She frowned, Morrigan hadn't said anything about leaving, especially not this late at night. Tapping her fingers on her book, Lily wondered whether it was any of her business. Or even if she had been wrong about what she had seen.

XOXOX

**AN: **Edited since first published.


	14. Missing Morrigan

**Pureblood Dreams**

By Lilybet

**Chapter Fourteen**

James tossed and turned in his bed, trying to find a comfortable place to sleep, too tired to sleep, desperate to rest. Punching the pillow viciously he pushed the covers down, trying to find that elusive balance between hot and cold. Somewhere in the middle of the battle with his pillow James fell asleep.

He opened his eyes into a room he had never seen before. Immediately he had the feeling that he was dreaming; and as a young Lily Evans ran through the hall laughing happily and throwing glances over her shoulder to a werewolf Remus, James knew he was asleep. He turned on the spot, to where Lily had come from. There, at the end of the long silk-draped hall, were two great silver thrones.

James took a step forward, only to find himself looking out over a forest, from high up in a tower. In the distance he could make out a dark light, like a hole in the world. Below him ravens circled, dancing with the streamers of multi-hued light that floated throughout the endless cavern.

A streamer struck him, and suddenly the strange silence that had arrived as Lily had left was gone. A million voices rang loud in the air, making James wince under the pressure; they were all speaking at once, of a thousand different things. One rose above them all, a golden voice which sounded like a king, "We will awaken and rise once more."

When James woke the next morning, an uncertain feeling woke with him, but all he remembered dreaming about was playing Quidditch naked, which accounted for it in his book.

XOXOX

"Have you seen Morrigan this morning?" asked Lily, sitting down for breakfast.

"No. Why?" replied Alice.

"No reason. Just wanted to run through that Charms homework with her." Lily said nonchalantly. In truth she was a little concerned about the dark-haired girl. She had stayed up late, in case Morrigan had wanted to talk when she got back. But when she awoke, from an awkward sleeping position, Morrigan was still nowhere to be seen.

Lily glanced down the long table, hoping to spot her, but instead her eyes landed on Sirius and Remus. Last night had been great fun; charming the fireworks just right so they wrote out in flaming numbers the scores of the Quidditch matches to date. Though Lily had been uptight to begin with, she had to admit that there was a certain thrill in escaping the castle and the teachers to cheer up someone in need. James had even struggled to the window and leaned out – looking very strange with the vari-coloured light of the fireworks gleaming off his deep blue skin.

That image of him, grinning despite clearly feeling awful, had stayed with her during the long night, invading her thoughts even when she tried to push it away. There was something oddly endearing about James Potter which she had never seen before, and however much Lily tried to deny it it wouldn't leave her alone.

Refocusing on the boys she smiled slightly – Remus was looking somewhere between bored, pained, and enthusiastic. The reason for his distorted expression was Sirius. He was talking stridently about Quidditch, dissecting the few matches that had taken place play-by-play. Remus was struggling to 'Mmm' and 'Ah' at appropriate moments, leaving Lily feeling very sorry for him. Finishing her breakfast she decided to go and rescue her fellow bookworm.

"Can I steal Remus away for a moment?" she asked, coming up behind Sirius and winking at Remus.

"That depends on what you want to steal him for." Sirius replied with a salacious wink.

"Sirius!" Remus admonished, blushing freely, "For that I shall leave you."

"No! Moony! Don't leave me! What ever will I do without your guiding hand?" Sirius bemoaned at ever louder volume as Remus and Lily beat a hasty exit, "I AM UNDONE!" he finished as they left the hall at a near run. With a satisfied nod and a odd smirk Sirius turned back to his breakfast, easily ignoring the strange looks heading his way.

"Does Black have _any_ redeeming qualities?" asked Lily, now two flights of stairs away with Remus.

"I hope that was a rhetorical question." said Remus.

"Why? Because you can't think of any?" Lily teased.

"Maybe."

Taking a deep breath, Lily asked, "Have you seen Morrigan at all today?"

Remus shook his head, "No. Why?"

"I...I think I saw her leave last night." Lily said hesitantly, "In the company of our Defence teacher and...Auror Moody."

"Seriously?" Remus' eyes widened, "That's a bit odd. Have you told anyone else? Alright, I think we should tell the others and then...figure something out. This whole thing just got more complicated."

"What whole thing?" Lily asked, but Remus' wasn't listening. He was muttering to himself about Sirius, a quiet place and secrecy spells, and started wandering off. Lily grabbed his arm, "What can I do to help?" she offered.

"Help? Erm, yes." Remus re-focused, "You could find out if James is going to be let out today. If he is, tell him: 'Gumbo'."

"'Gumbo'?" Lily questioned, but Remus had already vanished, "What's seafood stew got to do with anything?"

XOXOX

James stared at his hand, turning it back and forth. He was trying to figure out if it was the colour it should be. The problem was he hadn't really taken note of what shade of pink he was normally. It wasn't the sort of thing one did. Ah, today I am light pink with hints of yellow, unlike yesterday...he shook his head. At least he didn't feel as tired today.

Having never had flu before, James hadn't been prepared for the complete lack of energy. Coupled with the all-over body ache, the last few days had not been the most enjoyable. Today though he actually felt like getting up and doing something; his energy must be returning.

Sitting up in bed, the recovering boy watched Madam Pomfrey on her rounds. As she passed the doorway a red-haired figure came in. Even from five beds away and without his glasses, James could recognise the brilliant beauty that was Lily Evans. Curious, he reached for his glasses and began to lip-read the conversation.

"...you doing here..." he murmured as he watched, "...came to see if...what I mean...Sirius worried, not worried more concerned...er...James Potter.

"Potter? Me? She's come to see me?" Hurriedly James flattened his impossible hair, tried to neaten his sheets and grabbed a book from the pile Remus had left him.

The sound of Madam Pomfrey's voice got closer, and James focused intently on his book, "I think one more diagnostic, but if that's all clear then I see no reason why he shouldn't leave today. Good morning James."

"Morning." he replied cheerfully, putting on an air of surprise, "Oh, hello Lily. What are you doing here?"

"I...er..." Lily began, fighting the faint blush in her cheeks. She was determined not to admit why she was reacting like this, it certainly had nothing to do with the fact that James Potter was in his pyjamas.

"Miss Evans was wondering if you were going to be let out today. And...after this test result, I'd be happy to let you go." Pomfrey said.

"Really?"

"Really." Pomfrey said, nodding to Lily and heading away to finish her rounds.

"Well... I...I'll just wait outside while you get dressed." Lily said, and started to leave before turning back and asking, "You do know your book is upside down?"

James looked down at the book in surprise, he hadn't noticed, but before he came up with a decent reply Lily had left. Quickly he got dressed, and left to join her. Outside he smiled at Lily, who tentatively returned the look. Together they set off toward Gryffindor Tower – more as a direction to head in more than anything else.

"So, did you come to see whether I'd died? I wouldn't hold you to our deal if I had." James teased lightly.

"Actually Remus sent me. He told me to tell you: 'Gumbo'." Lily answered, "And he refused to tell me why fish stew was so important to you. Would you care to enlighten me?"

"Remus said 'Gumbo'." James asked, confused, "You sure it was Remus, not Sirius?"

"I think I can tell the two of them apart. Remus is kind, considerate and sensible. Sirius is crazy. Like you." Lily said pointedly.

"Are you suggesting that you can't tell me and Sirius apart?" James gasped, mildly affronted, "I'll have you know we're completely different."

"Of course you are," Lily replied soothingly, starting up the stairs, "Dark haired, irredeemably annoying, Quidditch obsessed, Pranksters. Nothing alike whatsoever."

James stopped at the foot of the stairs, staring up at the red flame of his heart, a frown creasing his brow, "You really think of me like that?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, of-" Lily turned and looked down at James. The look on his face was very different from his usual grin. He looked worn from the flu, still slightly off colour, with a tenseness present in his body that hadn't been there before. At least she had never noticed it. And strangest of all he seemed thoughtful, even serious. Maybe there really was more to James Potter than met the eye.

"I didn't mean..." She started, taking the steps back down till she was at his eye-level. Tentatively she reached out and placed a hand on his arm, "You're not...annoying...as such...just, um...Sirius is definitely crazier than you." she concluded, blushing as she turned and practically bolted up the stairs.

James watched her go, mildly flabbergasted. He wasn't entirely certain, but he thought that Lily Evans had just given him a compliment.

"Lily! Wait! Blast." he started up the stairs after her, but before he had reached half way up the flight he had to stop. His head was spinning – he hadn't done this much exercise in a few days, and the exhausting effects of the flu were still hanging round him.

"Don't you want to know about the Gumbo?" he half yelled.

At the top of the stairs Lily skidded to a halt. She did want to know about the Gumbo. Taking a breath and trying to smooth away the heat in her cheeks, Lily looked back down the staircase at the woozy boy and nodded. Without saying a word, she went back down and offered her arm to help him up.

"Head to the tapestry of St. Hilary of Poitiers." James said quietly as they reached the 3rd floor.

"Who?"

"The guy with the funny hat killing serpents."

"That doesn't help much. There's a lot of guys with funny hats in this place." Lily muttered, "So what does Gumbo mean?"

"It's a signal for us to meet at a certain place. An urgent signal." James risked a glance at Lily, "You have any idea why Remus said it? I mean, Sirius is usually the one who calls emergency meetings. Normally about strange prank ideas, or insane plots."

"I told him about Morrigan being missing, and he said-"

"Morrigan's missing? That's...odd." James frowned, "I wonder where she is."

XOXOX

When Lily and James neared the tapestry they heard the voices of Sirius and Remus. Lily looked round - they were nowhere in sight. Then James reached out and pulled aside the edge of the wall carpet to reveal a door beyond. Pushing open the door with his free hand, James motioned Lily through.

"I'm just suggesting that, under the right pressure, Bertha'll tell us, that's all." Sirius insisted to a pacing Remus.

"There you are." Remus said, "We've been-"

"What's she doing here?" Sirius said, indicating Lily with a nod.

"We agreed that she could come." James warned, "And I bet she knows more about Morrigan than we do."

"Alright."

James sat down in one of the four soft armchairs that circled a small fire, sighing in relief. The rest of the room was in a state of disarray, notes and half formed pranks littering a heavy worktable and parts of the floor. Lily flicked through some of them, as the boys called up a pot of tea and fished out clean parchment and quills.

"Right, if everyone's ready?" Sirius began, casting a concerned eye over his best mate, "And not about to fall asleep."

"Funny." James said, looking over his glasses.

"From what I've been told, overheard, and the research, yes research, I've done our Miss Le Fay is, uh, more than she seems." Sirius pulled a sheaf of papers from his bag, "I looked back in some of the old history texts and found these: they're mentions of the Le Fay family. 1284 – a Le Fay helps to drive back the Giants of the North. 1316 – A Dark army crosses the Welsh mountains led by someone called Mortan of the Fay. 1533 – Henry VIII has a lady friend known as the Fairy Queen. A Le Fay was involved in the Gunpowder plot. The list goes on, though there only seems to be one Le Fay at any time."

"So a prominent family then?" Remus inquired.

"Looks that way. Only thing is – I can't find their family tree in the library."

"Why should a family tree be in Hogwarts library?" asked Lily, pouring herself a cup of tea.

"Copies of all the Pureblood family trees are kept in both Hogwarts and St. Ambrose Library. Magical history and family history can't really be separated when it comes to the Pureblood families." James explained, "But if the Le Fay's aren't in there..."

"They either aren't a magical family -" Remus continued the thought.

"Unlikely." muttered Sirius.

"- Or they're so powerful that they can keep themselves out of the libraries."

"Which is really likely, since these," Sirius waved his hand over the papers he had been reading from, "are only mentions, and only obvious if you know what you're looking for."

"What about Morrigan? How does any of this tell us where she's gone?" Lily asked.

"She wanted me to help her find a key..." mused Sirius.

"And then there's this." Remus said, putting a clipping from the _Daily Prophet_ on the table. "Look in the corner of the photo. See it? ... Okay, so maybe you need sharp vision, but trust me. In that corner is the corner of a robe, a robe with a rune on it."

"Spooky." muttered James, yawning then waving his hand for Remus to continue.

"That rune is this." Remus took the quill from Sirius' limp fingers and drew on the back on his papers, "I looked it up and-"

"I've seen that before!" Lily gasped, "Morrigan's diary. She's got this book and that symbol is on the cover."

"But there's no way Morrigan could have been at this...attack." Remus said, pointing to the _Daily Prophet_ article.

"The Lady of Tintagel." said James, and Sirius nodded, "I overheard a conversation at Christmas about 'The Lady of Tintagel'. My Dad and a work colleague were talking about how she wouldn't join with the Dark Lord because of some...thing that they had over her. Sirius told me that Morrigan comes from Tintagel. What if..."

"What if Morrigan was a hostage?"

XOXOX

"I don't know why she joined him!" Morrigan said through gritted teeth.

She was sitting in a plain stone room furnished with two wooden chairs and a table. A bright light hovered overhead as she stared, exasperated, at the Auror opposite her.

"What are her plans?" he asked her for the nth time.

"I. Don't. Know." Morrigan emphasised.

"If you continue to refuse to cooperate, Miss Le Fay, not only will you be endangering innocent lives but you will be complicit in any acts perpetrated by your mother, and will be punished accordingly." warned the inquisitor, fingering his wand.

"I'm not refusing to cooperate." Morrigan attempted to explain, "I simply don't have the information you require."

The Auror glanced down at the paperwork spread out in front of him, a frown etched on his face. "What were you doing at Hogwarts?" he snapped suddenly, ""What instructions were you given? Who have you recruited?"

Morrigan blinked and swayed backwards slightly on her chair; the new questions taking her off-guard. She had been in the Ministry holding cells for an indeterminate length of time. She thought it had only been one day by the (fairly decent) meals she'd been given. Over the course of her inquisition Morrigan had been subjected to lengthy interrogations without relief, even the good-Auror-bad-Auror routine. Morrigan's questioners had gone away each time unsatisfied, unable as she was to give them the answers they sought.

These new questions were a different Quidditch pitch. She did have answers, but was completely unwilling to hand them over.

"What do you think I was doing at Hogwarts?" Morrigan shot back at the Auror, "As for instructions – do lessons count? And I'd love to know what sort of friends you have if you go round 'recruiting' them."

She felt a grim satisfaction as frustration showed on the Auror's face. They locked eyes as he took a breath, preparing to start the round of questions again. A rap on the metal door broke the stalemate, and the Auror waved his wand letting the knocker in. It was the last person Morrigan wanted to see, the person who had suggested using her as a hostage – Bartimus Crouch, Head Auror and Bureaucrat.

He smiled thinly as he entered the room, a sheet of parchment held neatly at his side. Everything about the man was tidy and formal, from his brightly polished shoes to the parting in his hair. Morrigan scowled and looked pointedly away, folding her arms in a defensive gesture.

Mr Crouch sat down in the chair vacated by the Auror and read through the notes on the table. He took his time, being completely thorough, setting Morrigan more on edge than before.

"Still uncooperative, Miss Le Fay." Crouch stated, "Perhaps a week in Azkaban will jog your memory."

"You can't!" gasped Morrigan, breaking her internal vow not to say anything to the man.

"It is my obligation to use whatever means necessary to obtain information." Mr Crouch said as if he were describing the colour of the room.

"I'm sixteen." Morrigan grated, "You can't send a minor to Azkaban."

Crouch unfolded the parchment he had brought in with him and laid it in front of the girl. Unwillingly, she looked down and read through the document. It was a list of wizarding countries birth records, each with a neatly handwritten line next to it: 'No record'.

"As you can see, there is no record of your birth in any part of the International Magical Community. We are forced to determine your age by inspection."

Crouch smiled his thin smile and said, "You look seventeen to me."

XOXOX

Severus leaned on the parapet and wondered what he was doing. He had been walking aimlessly round the darkened hallways of the school for the past hour, his feet finding their own way to all the places he had talked to her. And now he was here. In the place where the thing which he couldn't stop thinking about had happened. His head seemed to be filled with wet cotton wool, he couldn't think clearly about anything. His potions were slightly off, his Rune translations poor. Everything was lacking in something.

He had noticed her absence at Breakfast, then at lunch. At dinner he had scoured the Gryffindor table for her delicate presence, but she was nowhere to be found. Severus had been unable to sleep when the day was finally over, so had taken to wandering the halls.

"What am I doing?" he murmured to himself, "The Astronomy Tower in the middle of the night? What am I thinking? What was I thinking? Probably run off with some no good, idiot..." he descended into unintelligible muttering. Though not even he was sure whether it was about someone else or himself.

That...kiss. That simple, wonderful, meant-nothing, kiss. It had thrown him completely off course. After he'd wrecked any chance with Lily, Severus had sworn that he would never get involved with any female again. His feelings would stay locked firmly away, behind the masks and barriers. Then came that kiss. And now he couldn't think of anything but her. Anything but...Morrigan.

"Infatuation. That's what it is. A cold shower, yes, I'll just go have a cold shower, clear my head and..." and tada! she'll be gone from my mind, Severus completed the sentence with a thought. Shaking his head, he set off back down the stairs. He could live in hope...

XOXOX

**Remember to review now.**


	15. Azkaban

Dedicated to swimdiva87 for submitting the twenty-fifth review, my undiluted thanks.

**Pureblood Dreams**

By Lilybet

**Chapter Fifteen**

The _Daily Prophet_ had answered most of Lily and the Marauders' questions when it arrived the next morning. The lurid descriptions of the Death Eaters, their actions and their cold-blooded leaders turned most stomachs and put both students and teachers alike off their breakfasts. That the Lady of Tintagel, Morrigan's mother, was involved with the Dark Lord and his cohorts was undoubtable. As was the idea of Morrigan being a hostage – why else would she have been taken away so soon after the awful attack?

There were fearful whispers in the halls as the students worriedly dissected the news, while those with family members involved were comforted by friends. Professor Dumbledore had announced that he would personally tell each student how their family was doing if they were in St. Mungo's. Already a few students had been collected by aunts, mothers and grandparents. Lily felt both guilty and grateful that her family had no connection to the Magical world, except for her. They were in no danger...

In the end the newspaper had only given the group more determination to do something. Walking to and from lessons had been filled with James, Sirius and Remus hashing over points which didn't need arguing about. It did give Lily the chance to see the infamous Marauders in planning mode, and she realised that a great deal of thought had gone into every one of their pranks – for good or ill. The conclusion had been that since they couldn't help fight the Death Eaters they were going to find Morrigan's missing key. Being a hostage seemed to indicate that she wasn't on the dark side, and even if she was it would be safer in their hands.

So now, in their free period, James and Sirius were pawing over parchments littered with notes and drawings of the castle, working out an effective search plan. Remus had vanished into the library, and Lily was reading through Morrigan's cramped and cryptic notes. She had felt a little bad about reading her diary, but after Sirius had suggested that he read it she had hurried away to a corner with it. Though now, as she tried to figure out who 'S' was and whether he was relevant, she wished she had a little help.

XOXOX

Flicking the newspaper back to the front page Severus read again the horrific story of the night before. Inside he was shaking; it had never hit home before. The Dark Lord's campaign against muggles and mud..mugg...those not fit to be in wizarding society had made sense. Remove those who were incapable, handicapped, and society would flourish. But this...this wilful destruction...

And there, front and centre in the descriptions of the Dark forces was a woman with raven hair and wandless magic. Morrigan's mother. It was no wonder, then, that Morrigan had vanished from school. A hostage for her mother's good behaviour, and a prisoner when she turned.

"Good news isn't it?" said Yaxley.

The common room was empty of the lower years, and the few Slytherins studying were known to both as supporters, avid or otherwise, of the Dark. Snape looked up and nodded in agreement, forcing a slightly more cheerful mask into place. Yaxley sat and pulled the paper towards him.

"This woman," he said, tapping the descriptive paragraph, "she seems awfully familiar."

"A cousin?" suggested Snape blandly.

"Nooo, I don't think so. All my female cousins on my father's side are off on the Grand Tour, and I only have one on my mother's. Clementina, you know, down in Dorset, the one with the lisp. But she does seem...familiar."

Severus gave a tight smile, he didn't know Clementina or any of the extended Pureblood family, not that Yaxley ever remembered that. Over the years Severus had grown used to his friends forgetting that he wasn't Pureblood, and everyone else thinking he had two muggle parents instead of one. Just once it would be really nice for someone to say, - 'Severus, you know, the potions genius' - rather than 'oh, he's not one of us'.

"I know!" Yaxley suddenly exclaimed, "that new girl, the one in Gryffindor."

"Morrigan." Snape said automatically.

"Yes. This sounds like her. A relative do you think?" said Yaxley.

"I wouldn't know." Snape muttered, frowning. He had thought that the Le Fay's involvement with the Dark Lord's plans would be, perhaps not common knowledge, but known around the trusted circle at Hogwarts. Clearly, that assumption was inaccurate. Of the sixth years Yaxley was acknowledged as having the ears of those who mattered; if he didn't know anything about Morrigan...

"I don't associate with Gryffindors." he said.

"Not any more." sneered Yaxley, bitingly. Snape's prior _involvement_ with the Mudblood girl was known and highly frowned upon. All of the Slytherins who had known about it had laughed and pointed out his stupidity when she had finally turned on him. Really, it had served him right fraternising with low-born scum.

"If you'll excuse me, I must head to the library before class." Severus said tightly.

"Oh come on, Snape, grow a tougher skin." Yaxley advised jeeringly, "Otherwise you'll never survive what's to come."

XOXOX

It was mid-morning when Morrigan and her Auror escort reached the jetty to make the half-hour boat journey to Azkaban. From a clear blue sky the sun beat down happily, birds made jubilant noises and Morrigan was scowling so fiercely that the Aurors wondered if she had another expression.

She was furious at the whole situation: her mother, the Dark Lord, Aurors, Crouch, Azkaban, and the flaming weather. If she _had_ to go to the Dementor-ridden wizarding prison the weather should at least cooperate. Dark, gloomy, preferably a good heavy thunderstorm with flashing lightning and rough seas. Not a beautiful spring day, with echoes of the summer to come.

As the boat neared the island prison the warmth of the air vanished, leaving an omnipresent chill in the mind and the soul. It was the effect of the Dementors. Though some of the creatures had left the island and were roaming free under the direction of the Dark Lord, many still remained around their steady source of food.

The doors of the dungeon docks creaked open and closed behind them, and the Aurors hustled Morrigan off the boat and into the hands of the human wardens. Then they turned the boat around and practically fled from the forbidding place. As the doors slowly closed behind them, Morrigan wished she could just transform and fly out into the open sky. But that would take too long, and the Ministry would not take kindly to their prisoner escaping.

The guards took hold of her manacled arms and marched her through the heavy iron gate into the heart of Azkaban. As the gate clanged solidly closed behind her Morrigan couldn't suppress a shudder. The walk to her cell was short but nerve-racking, and the forced blandness of the guards' expressions didn't help. Her mind flitted back to the last words with Crouch before she left the Ministry.

"This is your last chance to cooperate. Will you give us the information concerning your mother's whereabouts and actions?" he had asked, making it sound like she was never getting out of the island prison.

"I have nothing to tell you." Morrigan had replied truthfully, wishing that she did know where her mother was so she could contact her.

"Then there is no other course of action." with a nod to the Aurors, Crouch had turned to leave.

Just as he did, something inside Morrigan spurred to say, "If you do this you will regret it. There's some things that are best left alone."

"We shall see."

Shoved into the small room, Morrigan came back to the horror of the present. The bars to her cell locked behind her with a sharp clink, and Morrigan felt the cold of the Dementors grow as the Patronus-protected guards walked away. Completely alone, she looked out of the tiny barred window to the outside world and wished that she knew a way out of this mess.

XOXOX

"I think I've found an entry that might help." Lily said laying the diary on the table where three out of the four Marauders were working. The fourth, Peter, was still ensconced in the infirmary, the colourful flu taking its toll on his health. There had been promises that he would be out soon, but considering he was still a violent shade of blue sooner was looking like later.

"An entry that might help." Sirius said monotonally, doodling a Quidditch play around the edge of his Potions essay.

"With our search," said Lily, feeling like beating Sirius over the head with the book, "She says that she saw something on the library roof."

That got the boys' attention.

"On the roof?"

"How could she get up to the library roof?"

"Something. What sort of something?"

Remus' question seemed the most sensible, so as she pulled over a chair and sat, Lily addressed him, "An odd glow that 'didn't seem like glass and had the scent of magic'."

James raised an eyebrow, "The _scent_ of magic?"

"That's what it says. She was meeting with 'S' and saw this odd glow with the scent of magic on the roof." Lily defended.

"And _who_ is 'S'?" asked Sirius with a glint in his eye.

"I don't know," admitted Lily, "But I know it's not you. She refers to you as...'the dog'."

Lily flicked back through the pages from where she had found the reference to Sirius, oblivious

to the concerned looks flowing between the boys. Calling Sirius a dog could be a slur on his character, or it could be something much worse. Morrigan could know about the three Marauders' animagi abilities, and if that was the case then she had probably figured out why they had those abilities.

"Though that makes sense." Lily added, getting the boys even more worried.

"Er, why?" ventured Sirius.

"Well, you are named after the dog star, aren't you?" Lily said, confused by their relieved expressions.

"Oh, yeah, that. Sirius the dog star, course." laughed Sirius lamely.

"That's what it is." agreed a smiling James.

"Rrright. Anyway." Lily shook her head internally: boys were weird. "You have access to everywhere, much to this school's detriment. Do you know of a way to the library roof?"

"We'll consider it." Sirius said, making shooing motions, "Now you must go. Marauders' secrets will not be told to girls."

From across the common room Alice watched as Lily scowled at the lot of them and walked away. Lily had certainly been spending a lot of time with those boys since...well, since James had fallen ill. Alice smiled to herself, she would lay odds that Lily didn't even realise that she spent more time looking at James than at the rest. It was obvious to anyone on the outside; the girl was falling for that boy.

XOXOX

"I don't see how coming here is going to help." said an exasperated Lily. It was the next day and Lily had been dragged, gently, to the library by Sirius and James, "You admitted you have no idea how to get to the roof. And we have no way of spotting this object when we don't know what it looks like, and can't see smells."

"That's not the point." explained James, who was tapping the wood panelling along the wall, "Sitting in the common room with no information got us nowhere."

"So now we can sit in the library with no information?"

"Which brings us one step closer to our goal." Sirius added in support.

"Uh huh." Lily sighed, and looked over the railing to where Remus was standing on the floor below. "What is Remus doing?"

Sirius joined her from his own investigations of walls and the backs of bookcases. "He appears to be looking at the ceiling."

"Why?"

"Why not?" Sirius shrugged and went back to pulling books off shelves. He'd once heard that Muggles hid rooms behind bookcases, with a book as a lever to access them.

Lily felt a tapping on her shoulder, "What? Oh, Potter."

"Hey, erm, about yesterday. You know Sirius: idiot." James said, running a hand through his hair, "Don't take his sending you away personally. I can put snakes in his bed if you like – he's not keen on them."

"Wouldn't that be a prank?" Lily asked slyly, half-wondering why she was giving him a chance not to mess up their deal. A date with him was not on her priority list, right?

"I figured, if you said it was okay, and it is Sirius, that it doesn't really count." explained James.

"Well..." Lily pondered, her gaze drifting back to Remus, "What _is_ he doing?"

On the main floor of the library Remus had been looking up at the ceiling with a frown creasing his forehead. Back when he and Sirius were fighting he had been trapped in the library for a time with numerous flies, frogs and other critters. But as the lights had gone out there had been a faint glow allowing him to make out where the door was. With the information Morrigan's diary had provided, Remus was wondering if the two glows were connected. He had thought the glow came from the ceiling, but all he was finding was a crick in his neck.

Remus took a look around, he couldn't see anyone – especially Madam Pince, the librarian. Quietly he lowered himself to the floor and lay flat on his back, looking up properly at the vaulted ceiling.

Upstairs, James called Sirius over and together they admitted that what Remus was doing was more interesting than their continued searching. So when Remus looked up, it was to find that their three faces looming over him.

"What are you doing?" asked Sirius.

"Um, finding a clue?" said Remus hopefully.

"Alright." shrugged Sirius, and he flopped onto the floor and lay down beside him.

Lily said, a bit bemused, "I don't think you're supposed to be doing that." She looked appealingly towards James.

"When in Rome..." He shrugged in his turn and lay down next to the others. "Come on Lily, you're drawing attention to us."

"I'm drawing attention?" Lily sputtered, but complied and sat cross-armed and legged on the floor. She wasn't going to lie down on the Library floor next to these...these _Marauders_; she had some dignity. "What exactly are you hoping to find by lying on the floor? And don't say 'a clue'."

"I once threw a sticky bomb at the ceiling in here. I wonder what happened to it." mused Sirius.

"There was a strange light in here when the lights were off, during that Egyptian incident." Remus half-explained, "It's a very interesting ceiling anyway. The Gothic rib vaulting was put in during the 13th Century after the first ceiling collapsed; it involved a whole redesign of the library to its current shape and size. Apparently the space between the vaults and the outer roof is home to a small colony of bats, though I've never heard anything."

"Fascinating." Sirius said, pretending to fall asleep on Remus' shoulder.

"Actually it is." James said, sitting up suddenly. "Tell me more about this space between the ceiling and the roof."

"O-kay." Remus pushed Sirius' lolling head over, "The vaulting that we can see here isn't the roof; the ribs provide structural support for the-"

"The space, Remus, get to the space." demanded James.

"Fine. Pointed roof on the outside, vaulting on the inside. Space in between." Remus outlined the structures with his hands.

"How do we get into that space?" James mused, tapping his fingers on the floor, "There's no door, so maybe a panel in the vaulting..." he pointed straight up at the curved panels between the ribs, "What are these made of?"

"The plain ones are stone, the painted ones are made of oak."

"Right. I have a plan!"

"Shhh! You are in a library and- oh my word!" Madam Pince appeared from behind a bookshelf, clutching a small book to her at the sight of the four of them. Remus and Sirius were still lying flat on the floor, with James and Lily sitting next to them. At the sight of her, Lily jumped up and started dusting herself down, muttering apologies.

"Out!" Madam Pince hissed, "Get out all of you! Lying on the floor in the middle of the library; this isn't a dormitory. Banned, all of you. I ban you from entering this library till you've gained a sense of dignity. And Detention to boot! Now, OUT!"

As the librarian pulled out her wand and brandished it at them, the four Gryffindors got up and hurried away; Lily and Remus trying to apologise as the others pulled them from the path of Pince's wrath.

XOXOX

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	16. A Flying Start

**To the three people who reviewed: ZedPm, StarKid McFly, and swimdiva87, this one's for you.**

**Pureblood Dreams**

By Lilybet

**Chapter Sixteen**

James lay on the ground groaning while Sirius stood over him and called him twelve kinds of fool. His brilliant plan for getting onto the roof of the library had involved a broom, a rope, two towers, and a really skilled Quidditch player. How it had ended up was a flattened Quidditch player, a broken rope and a broom that Remus was still chasing down.

James groaned again, "Why did I think that was a good idea?"

Sirius gave him a hand up, not stopping in his description of certain people who thought that flying on a windy day between the library bell tower and a nearby tower was a good idea. He had calmly informed James before he began that the idea was a stupid one, but the star Quidditch player had refused to listen. The only truly upsetting thing was that Lily hadn't been around to see James' wonderful tumbling fall to the ground. The look on James' face when he saw her would have been priceless.

"What happened to my broom?" James asked.

Taking a breath, Sirius pointed over to where Remus was half-way up a tree, "Got a mind of its own, that thing."

James jogged over, grimacing as bruises on top of bruises made themselves known. Remus half-waved when he saw him, before grabbing the branch he was clinging to. Climbing up trees was not his favourite pastime.

"How goes it?" James called.

"It's just out of reach." Remus yelled back down.

"Why don't you just summon it?"

"Because it's stuck."

"Problem?" asked Sirius, catching up at a more sedate walk.

"Broom's stuck." James said shortly.

"Ah." Sirius mused, "He needs to go more to the left."

Remus tugged his robe out of the clutches of another pointy twig, winced as the bark grazed his hand, and glowered at Sirius. He knew where he needed to go. Getting there was another matter entirely. Huffing, he reached out and put some weight on the next branch over. Sirius and James may be teasing his tree climbing skills, but he'd rather be cautious than groaning on the ground. Remus clambered over, and realised that the broom was now just above his head. The only thing was that he would have to stand up to move it.

"Don't look down!" came the sound, but highly annoying, advice from below.

He swore to himself that James would have to beg for a long time before he undid any retribution prank. And there would be retribution for this. Remus took a deep breath and, clinging to the trunk of the tree, stood up. Then, slowly, he took one hand off the trunk and reached up to shake the broom. His eyes flickered upwards for a moment, but as they did he felt his foot slipping. Without thinking he flailed wildly and fell.

"_Accio_ broom!" and "_Accio_ wand!" came the twin responses from below as he windmilled to the ground and landed with a thump.

Dumbly, Remus groaned and opened his eyes to view the dark forms of his friends, one holding a broom, the other his wand.

"_Accio_ wand?" he queried, "Out of all the cushioning spells, levitation charms, and transfiguration we've learnt, you chose to summon my wand?"

"I didn't want it to get broken." Sirius explained, helping a friend to their feet for the second time that day.

"And what about your friend Remus? You were fine with him getting broken?" Remus raised an eyebrow.

"Eh, you're fine." said James.

"You won't be when I'm done." Remus muttered darkly, and walked off with Sirius who was back to explaining all the reasons the plan had failed.

"What? What did I do?" James said, spreading his arms and holding up his broom forlornly.

XOXOX

Morrigan's hand shook as she put it out to renew the silvery mist between her and the bars of the cell. Her magic against the Dementors was based on the same thing as every other witch or wizard's - happiness. And in this place, with the creatures swarming around, happiness was in short supply. Morrigan had been able to hold up a Patronus field for days now, but as her reserves were gradually depleted the effects of the Dementors grew worse. It was a vicious circle.

There had been no further visits from Crouch, or any Auror since they had left her in the prison. The only sane humans she had seen were the guards when they brought what passed for food twice a day. Luckily Morrigan was used to having few contacts with other people, and if the isolation had been the only factor then she would have been fine. But it wasn't. The Dementors were the force in Azkaban, and their debilitating effects were wearing.

The patronus shield restored, for now, Morrigan got up from the floor to look out the barred window again. There wasn't enough room between the three iron bars to escape in her Raven form, and the view was uninspiring. The north sea threw itself constantly against the rocks that made up the island, engaged in the never-ending battle to wear them down and swallow the prison, lock, cell and bars.

Morrigan dared not touch the bars. She had when she first looked out the window, and received a vicious-looking burn for her trouble. She didn't think the freezing temperatures could have that effect on iron, but there was no other answer. The cold was the other enemy in the prison; it numbed the body as the Dementors numbed the mind, till there was nothing left but insanity and death.

Renewing the magic had tired her out; her thoughts were all too sharp and negative to bear. Maybe if she slept she could find some release from the prison. Didn't they say that you were only a prisoner in your mind?

Curling into the warmest corner she wrapped her dark cloak around her. Her eyes closed and Morrigan drifted into a world of dreams. A voice (voices?) lilting in the darkness, calling out to kin.

"_Morrigan. Raven of death. Hear us. Hear me. Open the door. Set us free. Open the door. Find the key." _

"Maeve." A lilting voice came out of the dark and cleared her eyes.

"Mother." Maeve replied, lifting her head from her hand. At eighteen these events still bored her a little, even tonight was no different.

The older woman came up alongside her daughter to look over the balcony above the wide hall, where dozens of influential and powerful people roamed.

"He is a good choice to be the host for the elven lord." her mother said, her eyes fixed on a young man below.

Maeve murmured an agreement, but her concern showed clear on her face.

"You doubt my decision." her mother accused.

"No." Maeve denied, "I just wonder if there is another way..."

"The union will bring you great power, enough to set the family right again."

"And if a child is born?" Maeve asked, "She will feel the urge to open the door more strongly than any before her."

"Then keep her here, away from the key." her mother shrugged gracefully, "And if that fails then you will have the power to take the Ministry down swiftly. Once we are in control..."

"All else falls." Maeve nodded.

Her mother wasn't listening, her eyes still on the young man, "I will instruct our young Mr. Riddle in that direction. You do your part and see he remembers nothing of the night to come."

"Yes, Mother." Maeve said as her mother left her side, her gaze following her down to the floor below where she joined the young man soon to be host to a power beyond anything he knew. She stretched out her hand towards the man, "_Imperio_!"

XOXOX

"Do you know what tomorrow is?" asked Sirius, throwing an arm around James.

"Friday?"

"Yes, but no." he replied with a frown, "Tomorrow is the first of April; April fool's day. We ought to do something do celebrate."

"I thought we agreed way back when that April fool's was the one day we wouldn't do anything. Thus putting everyone on edge." said Remus.

"Yes. I know. But, well, we haven't pulled a prank for ages. I've got itchy fingers." Sirius moaned.

"Whatever you decide, leave me out of it." James said, sliding out from Sirius' arm, "I've still got a promise to keep. No pranks, no dares, no idiotic behaviour. One Head Boy equals one date."

"But you've been so good, I'm sure Dumbledore will overlook one little prank. You've been quite dull enough to get that Head boy position. If you don't count that stunt with a broom."

"Gee, thanks."

"Sirius may have a point." Remus said, to the shock of the others, "It might be a good idea to perform some kind of prank."

"Who are you and what have you done with Remus?" James demanded.

"As a distraction." Remus explained, "We need to get back into the library without anyone noticing what we're up to. The best way is if they are all otherwise occupied."

"With a prank!" said Sirius excitedly, "Brilliant."

"We still have that pile of test papers in the lab." James mused, "We never did get around to using them."

"Now you're talking, Prongs!" Sirius cheered.

"We're going to need more manpower to pull this off. Where's Peter got to?"

"He's still in the infirmary." Remus said.

"Still?" James sighed, "Well that's a pain. Do you think Lily will help?"

Sirius looked at Remus and shrugged, "She helped set off the fireworks."

XOXOX

"No, Black. I will not help you prank the entire school. I may have helped you with the fireworks for James, but that was different." Lily hissed.

Alice smiled from her ring-side view of the Marauders' request for help. She would bet her right foot that 'different' in this context meant 'involved James'. Though Lily had still been denying the fact that she had feelings, positive feelings, for James, the denials had been getting steadily less vehement. Alice had decided not to push her into anything though; the long years of answering 'no' to his question wouldn't be undone in a few short weeks. She wanted her best friend to have the kind of loving relationship that she was lucky enough to have with Frank.

"And this _is_ different." Sirius defended the request for help, "This is to distract everyone so we can get back into the library, and into the...what's it called?"

"It doesn't really have a name. It's just the space between the ceiling and the roof." Remus said.

"Um, would me asking make any difference?" James butted in.

"No." said Lily automatically, and defensively. She knew that if James did ask her anything right now she wouldn't know what to say. Her feelings towards him were more than a little confused.

"Ignore him." Sirius pushed James behind him, "Just help us. Unless you can think of another idea, this is probably the only way we're going to get into the – gah! We have to think up a name for that space."

Alice sidled up to stand behind Lily, "If you help you might be able to curb the worst of their excesses."

"Alice!" Lily jumped, "You're helping them now?"

"Not at all." Alice winked over Lily's shoulder at James, "I just think everyone needs a guardian angel."

"Hmm, I suppose someone ought to make sure you don't hurt anyone. And don't say you wouldn't do that, because I know you." She pointed her wand straight at Sirius, who was looking innocent. It seemed that fate was pushing her to spend more time with James and his friends, and who was she to stand in the way of fate?

"Fine. I'll help."

XOXOX

Late the next day students filed into classrooms for the last lesson of the week. Alice hovered outside Divination door, waiting for Frank to turn up. She had discussed with Lily that morning about whether she could miss the lesson, and so not be caught in the prank. But they had decided that if too many Gryffindors were missing from the third year lessons the teachers would be even more suspicious. Alice had even convinced the Marauders that the last lesson, when the Sixth years had their electives, would be the best time. They would be less likely to be missed.

"Frank! About time." Alice said.

"Sorry, left my notes in my room. Shall we?" Frank apologised.

Alice felt excitement as she stepped across the threshold of the classroom, and couldn't stop herself giving half a skip. She couldn't wait for the prank to begin; though she knew some details, others were a mystery.

"Something wrong?" Frank whispered as they sat down, the teacher slipping easily into his lecture.

"No, it's nothing." Alice smiled, and she tucked her hand into Frank's.

The lecture continued until the teacher gave a pile of test papers to a student, going through all the usual rules as he did. Alice struggled to keep her grin hidden as the tests were handed round; it was a quite an exhilarating experience to be on the inside of the prank. She could almost understand why the boys did it.

The test landed on her desk, where it promptly folded itself up and then unfolded itself. Murmurs sprang up around the room as the others saw the paper folding trick. Kevin Higginbotham, the Hufflepuff who had handed round the papers, made to get up and check that he had handed the right paper round. But as he tried to stand his chair lifted up with him. His friends around him started to laugh.

"I'm stuck to my seat!" he yelped.

"What do you mean, you're stuck to your seat?" Professor Ogham asked.

"I mean I can't get up from my seat, sir" Kevin explained.

"Don't be ridiculous, come here." Ogham moved over to Kevin's seat and attempted to remove the boy from his chair. He held the boy's arms and lifted; Ogham was big man who could be regularly seen working out on the Quidditch grounds; even with his hefty muscles he couldn't remove Kevin. Alice stifled her laugh as the chair itself lifted an inch off the ground.

"See, sir, I'm stuck." Kevin said.

Ogham glared at Kevin, as if the force of his gaze would separate the two. Kevin did lean back slightly, but remained fixed to his seat. Around the class others tried to get up to see what was going on more clearly, only to find that they too were affixed to their seats.

"I'm stuck too, sir!" cried a Ravenclaw girl.

"Me too." said her partner.

Other cries went up, some more amused than others, all highly confused at how they came to be stuck on their chairs. Frank watched Alice surreptitiously try to lift herself from her seat, "You too?"

She nodded, but then started to laugh quietly. Last time she had tried to borrow Lily's favourite perfume she had found all her make-up stuck to her table. Clearly Lily had used the same spell on the chairs to trap all the students.

"Calm down, everyone." Professor Ogham said, rapping on his desk with his wand, "Magic will provide us with an easy way to solve this problem. _Finite Encantatum_." He beckoned to Kevin to try to get up again.

"It hasn't worked, sir." Kevin said.

"I can see that, boy." responded Ogham, a little annoyed. He started running though the possible spells which could help in his mind.

"Sir," Cynthia, a Slytherin, put up her hand, "Is this the right test?"

"I don't that the test is of vital importance right now, thank you Cynthia."

"But sir, this test asks what Professor McGonagall's favourite colour is." Cynthia protested. There was a strange popping sound and a tall pointed hat appeared on her head. It was a vivid pink and emblazoned with a large green 'D'.

"Where did that come from?" asked Ogham.

"I, I don't know, sir." Cynthia said, trying to pull the hat off her head; the neon pink clashed horribly with her orange hair ties. It was a fashion disaster.

Although a number of giggles were now circulating the room, Alice stuffed her hand in her mouth to stop her loud laughs drawing attention. As Ogham started to try various spells, Frank looked at Alice and asked quietly, "Honey, do you know something about this?"

"Not at all." Alice gasped out.

"Let me see that test." commanded Ogham, giving up on the spells, "Favourite colour, how many hair grips does she use, what is this? Who else has this test? No one? Well, what does yours say, Kevin?"

"It asks who Professor Dumbledore's first date was with." Kevin said. The strange popping sound occurred again, and a tall hat, this time in a nice sky blue and yellow, appeared on his head.

"Ah ha!" cried Ogham, thinking that the only way someone could have known when to give Kevin a hat was to be in the same room, "Who is doing this? Who is it?"

No one replied to the question. Laughter in the room grew as Kevin tried to poke his friend with the hat. He failed, but his friend caught the point and was now steering his head around like an apple on a stick. The hats, like the chairs appeared to be stuck to the students.

Cynthia, sitting close to Ogham's desk, steadfastly ignoring the snide comments from her fellow Slytherin about the hat, spoke up saying, "Um, sir, I think there's a test on your desk too."

Ogham, still looking round the classroom determined to weed out the culprit, turned to his desk and picked up the paper lying there. It was, as Cynthia suggested, another test. But rather than the subject being the Professors' habits, it was on subjects that simply couldn't be real.

"Has anyone heard of a _Plimpie_?" the Professor asked. As negative answers came in from across the disorganised classroom, there was a soft sound. At once screams of stifled laughter arose. Ogham looked up and caught sight of something orange out of the corner of his eye. He moved, but the orange thing moved with him.

As the Professor made some very unteacher-like remarks about the altered colour of his hair, Alice couldn't hold in her laughter any more. All over the room, other curious things were happening. Students were discussing their strange papers, with dunces hats vying with wild coloured hair for prominence.

"What is going on?" Frank wondered, "Alice?"

"What?"

"Are those four Gryffindor terrors behind this?"

"Who?" Alice asked innocently.

"Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew." Frank whispered, "That's who!"

"I can say with absolute honesty that those four are not behind this." Alice said smoothly.

Slowly the class figured out that referring to the questions caused the hair change, and asking anyone the question outright earned them a dunces hat. Only Alice, Frank, and one or two others who had kept silent, remained unhatted and with their original colouring. Then there was an almighty crash in the corner of the room. Ogham raced across to where Bernice, the Ravenclaw girl, had fallen over, chair and all. He restored her to her upright, but stuck, position and then asked her calmly what had happened.

"We all live in a yellow submarine," she said, looking very confused, "a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine."

"That's very nice, Bernice, but what happened?" Professor Ogham asked again.

"We all live in a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine, a yellow-"

"Yes, thank you. I understand, a yellow submarine. Miss Childs," he said hurriedly, turning to her neighbour, "Can you elaborate on what happened here?"

"Yes, sir. She said that this was a silly test and that she wasn't taking it. And I agree." Childs said, "We all live in a yellow submarine..."

"Oh dear." Ogham turned to the rest of the class, "Nobody say that-" he stopped, catching himself just in time, "Nobody express any dislike in the tests. In fact I suggest that we all begin attempting them. Ramma lamma lamma ka dingity ding da dong."

The class immediately burst into wild laughter. Between Bernice's Beatles impression, the dunces caps and now a rendition of Grease from the normally serious Professor, the class had turned into one no one wanted to leave.

"You really don't know anything?" Frank asked again, as Ogham tried to end a sentence without Greased Lightening, "I don't mean to question your honesty, but..."

"Just do your test, Frank. Unless you want to live in a yellow submarine?" Alice quipped.

Frank gulped and turned to his paper, "Exactly how tall is Professor Flitwick?" he murmured, without realising. A distinct pop, and he glanced upwards with a sigh; sky blue really wasn't his colour.

XOXOX

**Please do review, what you write does change the story.**

**Without ZedPM James' flawed plan would never have existed.**


	17. Key Point

A/N: Apologies for the delay; important chapter, had to get it right. Blame Sirius, he was being uncooperative. Have also altered the formatting for the entire story (Thank you 'gold' and ZedPM for pointing out) – hopefully the scene changes are easier to find now. If it's still unsuitable let me know. Also - WARNING: Death in chapter.

**Pureblood Dreams**

by Lilybet

**Chapter Seventeen**

Sirius cautiously opened the library door and slipped inside, the others following in his wake. Softly he went from aisle to aisle keeping an eye out. Their prank may have taken care of the student body but there was still a librarian to contend with.

The sound of the squeaky wheeled book trolley reached Remus' ears and he tapped Sirius on the shoulder and pointed. Sirius took off in that direction with James, while Remus and Lily headed to the upper level.

James whipped out the invisibility cloak which he had kept hidden from Lily. Slinging it over his shoulders, he pulled up the hood and vanished from sight. Sirius heard his footsteps moving stealthily away and began his progress forwards again. He looked round the corner of a bookcase to spot Madam Pince, the librarian who had banished them from her domain. Since they were planning on causing dust and destruction, their top priority was getting her out of the way.

From the other end of the bookcase where Pince was working James trod quietly until he was right behind her. Sticking his hand out of the cloak momentarily, he watched as the red stunner from Sirius' wand hit her. Pince collapsed immediately into James' waiting arms. He carefully lowered her to the ground and slipped back the hood of the invisibility cloak.

"She alright?" Sirius asked, joining him.

"Yeah. Out for the count," James wrapped her cloak around her, and manoeuvred the trolley in front of her so that she was hidden from view. "Let's go."

They raced up the spiral stairs to the upper level, where they joined Remus and Lily. Together they had shifted a load of books off a shelf and were positioning a chair in front of the bookcase.

"You sure this is the right one?" asked James.

"No. And if there is we're not likely to find it in time. This panel will have to do," Remus said shortly.

"I've got my best cutting charm at the ready, where do I point?" Sirius said bouncily.

"Are you always like this?" sniped Lily.

"Mostly."

Remus climbed up the chair and the bookcase, being careful not to lean back, and twisted till he was sitting on top of the case. Then, half crouching, he stood up and pushed the wood panel above him. Nothing happened. He grunted and examined the edges of the wood. "Sirius, you'll need to get up here. The cuts need to be accurate."

"Are you saying that I can't be accurate from three feet away?" Sirius said as Remus climbed back down.

"Yes."

"Fine," Sirius sniffed, "I shall climb yon tower and cut loose this wondrous panel."

"Sirius," James warned.

Sirius grinned and leapt up the improvised stairs, almost jumping into position on the top of the case. He stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and squinted up at the panel. "A little light, Monsieur." he asked those below. With light glowing from three wand tips, he pointed his own wand and whispered the cutting charm. Technically he could do the spell non-verbally, but with something this delicate it was better to say it aloud.

Dust floated down from the ceiling until Sirius cut through the wood on all four sides. He had put his right hand on the panel as he cut, and now lifted it down, holding it like a waiter with a plate. Remus reached up and took the edge as he passed it down, and placed it on a nearby table. Sirius stood up, keeping his back to the wall. He lit his wand with a thought and poked his head into the space between the library ceiling and its roof.

At first he couldn't see anything, but slowly his eyes adjusted to the dark and he saw the sloping top sides of the ceiling panels. Between them, and on either side of him, were stone ribs. He turned and pulled himself up backwards onto one of them, and stood up. His balance was precarious on the narrow stone, but he walked forwards and sneezed.

"What's it like up there?" James called from below.

Sirius sneezed again, "Dusty." He kept walking till he stood on the apex of the stone; a junction of the rib supports. The light coming through the hole waved as James climbed up. Lily accepted a helping hand as she joined them, and to Sirius' eyes it seemed like their hands lingered in contact. He hid his smile and turned back to the dark.

Off at what appeared to be the other end of the library complex a faint light gleamed. Picking his way carefully, and trying not to be on one foot when he continued sneezing, Sirius went from ridge to ridge. No one asked where he was heading, content to follow his lead once they had seen the light for themselves.

The light resolved itself into a globe that illuminated the space with a blue glow. Inside the globe, something dark and undefined floated – the key. It hovered above a junction and as they approached it, James and Lily on one rib, Remus on another, James asked, "Do you hear something?"

"Like...music," Lily said, "I know that music.."

"It's more like laughter," James said, thinking how it sounded like Lily's laughter.

"What do you mean?" Remus said quietly, "It's the howl. The howl of the Great Pack."

"It must be the magic, we must each hear something different, important," Lily said.

"What do you hear, Sirius?" James asked.

While they had been talking Sirius had been watching the globe with wary eyes, and now he turned and snapped, "Nothing. I don't hear anything." he gave his barking laugh, "How can I with you guys yapping away?"

"I know what he hears," came a snide voice from the shadows.

"Snape!" growled Sirius, the light from their wands illuminating the newcomer.

"How did you get here?" James asked, steadying Lily as she turned on the spot.

"You mean how did I escape your little prank?" Snape sneered, "You really think that after six years I wouldn't know your favourite colour? Or what Pettigrew's worst fear is? And as for that sticking charm..."

"Fine, whatever. Now go away," Sirius said, turning out the light from his wand so he'd be ready for the attack when it came.

"I don't think so." Snape's eyes were drawn away from the pointing wands to the globe hovering behind Sirius. "I always thought it was a myth."

"What are you yabbering about?" James asked.

"You really don't know what that is?" Snape looked at Sirius and laughed, "You haven't told them? And here I was thinking you were friends."

"Shut up," snapped Sirius.

"You must have recognised it. Or did your parents not let you read the Fey stories?"

"Shut up," repeated Sirius. James caught Remus' eye and, edging closer to Snape, indicated that they should get between the rivals. This wasn't the place for a full scale battle, the ceiling beneath them probably wouldn't hold their weight, and who knew what would happen if a spell hit the globe.

Snape smirked at the fearful venom in Sirius' voice, knowing that he was pushing close to the line, "Alright. You tell them then."

Lily turned back, looking past James, "Sirius?" she asked.

Sirius locked eyes with Snape; he was furious at being called out about this. But, really, there had been no time to tell them about this. He hadn't thought the whole Doors-to-the-Otherworld thing was anything more than a Pureblood myth, and as for the key being kept in a globe of light where only the worthy could find it...myth. Total myth. He broke the deadlock and turned his back on Snape, trusting his friends to keep an eye on him.

"He's afraid," Snape declared, trying to ignore Lily's curious gaze, "Aren't you, Black? You'd think nothing would scare someone who's read the Ceasteræscas."

Lily gasped and James rocked back on his heels. The Ceasteræscas contained instructions for the use of the Unforgivable curses, the creation of the worst poisons, and all manner of unspeakable spells. There were only four known copies, and two of them were in the deepest vaults of Gringotts under Ministry protection.

"He wouldn't. I know Sirius and there is no way he would read that of his own accord," James defended.

"It wasn't of my own accord," whispered Sirius in the silence, "and, yeah, the Fey story of Elves trapped behind a Door and there being a key to unlock it, was in there." He nodded towards the globe. "The picture of the key looked a bit like that... I can hear them calling..."

With his eyes half closed he reached out and put his hand into the glow to reach the dark heart. He grimaced as he reached the centre, and then pulled out his hand. It was bleeding but he held a shield.

XOXOX

Maeve stood by the entrance of the cave, admiring the sun descending over the forest in a blaze of pinks and oranges. She could hear the preparations behind her, there were two attacks planned tonight, one on a Ministry Bureau building in Manchester, the other on three Muggleborn families who lived in the same village. The Death Eaters were working themselves up; they would descend onto the targets like locusts onto a field of corn, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake.

The last curve of the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky fading through deep blue into black. The sound of footsteps came out of the cave and Maeve felt the touch of cold fingers on her arm. As Voldemort joined Maeve on the rocky outcrop she smiled lightly. She remembered the young man who had been the conduit for the power of the Elven King, the power she now held and was using to bring down the Ministry. That young man had changed a great deal in the seventeen years since she had seen him last, but the human power he had amassed in that time deserved a modicum of respect. Even if he was still holding out about the location of the key.

"I have some news," Voldemort said seriously.

"Oh?"

"About your daughter."

Our daughter, Maeve thought, wondering again if she should tell him that there was a missing night in his memory. A night that had left her both powerful and pregnant.

"She has been taken by the Ministry to Azkaban."

Maeve whipped round, a second away from grabbing Voldemort's robes, "What?"

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry isn't good enough," Maeve walked fiercely away, sparks flying from her fingers as her fear transformed into anger. "We have to get her out. That place...does things to the mind."

"I know," soothed Voldemort. He knew that Maeve was quick to act on her emotions, he had used it in the past, but now was not a good time to have a loose canon in his ranks. Yet another reason for the Ministry to be reorganised. He had planned long and worked hard to get a Le Fay under his control; for the Ministry to threaten the balance like this was unacceptable. "Nothing can be done tonight."

"Why not?" demanded Maeve, her own mind constructing and discarding plans to break into the fortress-like prison.

"It would take a power greater than yourself to get into that place." Voldemort drifted close to Maeve and laid his thin hands on her shoulders, "Together we could do it. But all of my forces would be required. Things are already in motion tonight." Gently he turned the woman and lifted her chin, "Why don't you join them? Work out some of that anger on those who deserve it."

Maeve looked deep into the blood red eyes and relaxed slightly. She still felt the encompassing fear for her own, but it was tempered by the knowledge that this man would not let her daughter suffer long. Her mother had been right: he was a worthy man. "Yes," she murmured and placed her own hand on his chest, "There is something you should know. Morrigan, she-"

"My Lord." the Death Eater winced as Voldemort hissed, annoyed at the interruption.

"What?" he snapped, pulling his wand from his robes as he fixed the man with a stare, "Speak up, Pettigrew."

"My Lord, it is time." Mark bowed low, his red robes turning the colour of stale blood as the last of the light slid from the sky.

Voldemort smiled his thin smile; another chance to lead the righteous to their place in the world, another chance to punish those who would stray so much from the path. Soon victory would be within his grasp.

XOXOX

Aurors ran in the direction of the screams and flashes of light. The Death Eaters had failed to completely surprise the three Muggleborn families. It had just so happened that one of the families had previously been attacked while on a day trip, and there was a Ministry Counsellor with them. She had been able to send off an alarm before defending the Muggle parents to the best of her ability. All available Aurors were flooding into the sedate little village, causing the altercation to quickly turn into a full scale battle.

Moody tore into the centre of the village from his apparation point, pausing as he wildly took in the scene. In the middle of the fight, launching fireballs at Aurors, stood Maeve, a horrible grin on her face and a brittle laugh in her throat. No Auror could get close to her, though most were involved in their own battles with masked Death Eaters. Deadly spells seared the air, shattering explosions damaging people and houses alike.

Drawing a deep breath, Moody lifted his wand, set his eyes on the Mage-witch and hurled himself into the fray. Stunners, hexes and Unforgivable curses bounced off each other in the confusion, causing more damage than could be imagined. A dreamlike quality seemed to split the fierce Auror's mind as he dodged and weaved, spitting curses left and right. He was determined to take down the most dangerous element in the mix – that much power on the Death Eaters' side was not good.

A fireball burst into view, and he ducked quickly. Briefly he caught sight of the Prewett brothers fighting a man-mountain dressed in blood red robes. Then he focused again and the woman came into view.

"Moody!" cried the Mage-witch, "My daughter will be freed, and you will rue the day you crossed the Le Fays!" A flick of her wrist and another fireball was hurtling in Moody's direction.

Rolling to his feet, Moody spat a stunner at her. He saw it hit her, but nothing happened.

"You think your pitiful magic can stop me? I am beyond your comprehension." Maeve drew on all her thought and magic within her, creating another fireball in her bare hand. All her anger and despair was fuel to the Elven magic she had gained; it grew stronger and more uncontrollable as she imagined the torment her unexpected little girl was going through.

Moody only had chance to drop to the ground as several spells from Death Eater/Auror fights coincided and exploded the neat cottage behind the woman apart. The inferno threw shrapnel out at all angles, hitting friend and foe alike. The sheer force blew the witch from her feet as Moody kept his face in the dirt.

Looking up he saw her roll over, her hand held to her bleeding head, and took the opportunity to see who else was still alive. Off to his left, half a dozen black robed Death Eaters had gathered around a fallen comrade and were fending off the Aurors determined advance. To his right, the Prewetts had won their battle. One of the pair was checking on his twin who was lying, blood smeared, on the ground a short distance away from the fallen red-robed Death Eater.

"Fabian!" Moody called, catching the attention of the kneeling brother, "Your help!"

Maeve climbed to her feet, the unreleased wild magic in her driving her mad. It would find a way out in any way it could. Desperately she tried to gain some control of it. Wild magic would tear a hole in the fabric of the world. It could open a new door.

The magic balanced for a moment, and the tendrils round her drew in. Now she would see this battle ended. Forming a single spell in her mind, Maeve closed her eyes against the vision of destruction around her. This one swift burst of power and the Aurors would be swept away. "Leave while you can," she murmured, the sound running along the dark link that joined all Death Eaters.

Across the open space Death Eaters began to vanish, leaving the Aurors with the dead and wounded. In the centre Moody stood up unsteadily, Fabian by his side. "Let's take her out."

Together they readied their wands, and just as the Mage-witch's eyes snapped open they let loose with a terrible barrage of spells.

XOXOX

The devastation left in the little village was such that new homes would have to be found for many. Confused Muggles were being calmed and settled into the village hall, a memory of a gas explosion implanted into their minds. Fabian Prewett wandered through the rubble and bodies, not really seeing what was around him.

His foot caught on something soft, and he looked down. It was a teddy bear. Probably dropped by a fleeing child. Once it had been warm and cuddly, now it had black smears over its body, a missing ear and torn limbs. He sighed deeply, at least this particular day was over. This battle was won, even if the war continued.

"You alright there?" a voice said behind him.

"I should be asking you that question," Fabian replied with a smile. His brother, Gideon, had seen better days, but with the wound closed and bandaged he was no longer in danger.

"What happened while I was out?" Gideon asked, rubbing the bandages around his chest.

"Large explosions, nasty spells. The usual. Oh, and we got her."

"Her?"

"Maeve Le Fay." Fabian pointed over to the clear burnt circle in the centre of the square, where a blanket lay over a mound. "She's dead."

He wasn't sure exactly what had happened in those last moments. Moody had called him over, then the Death Eaters had vanished, leaving only the Lady of Tintagel. All the Aurors had thrown spells at her, and she had fired back. At least, Fabian thought she had.

As the combination of spells had hit the witch something strange had happened. For a moment, Fabian thought he had seen a rip in space open. There had been green fields filled with people; people wearing armour. Then it had gone and there was only a giant fireball.

Fabian ran his fingers through his singed hair. If he kept getting in battles like this he'd end up bald!

"We're sure it's her? Good. Let's hope that's the last we see of the Le Fays," Gideon said sourly, holding his side.

"Yeah," Fabian said a little sadly. "I guess. Still, I kinda feel bad for her daughter."

"Why? She's bound to be just as bad. Plus, they started this war. If those dark losers would just understand that Muggleborns are just as good as Purebloods then no-one would be dead. Or injured," Gideon added, wincing as his chest wounds pulled.

"I guess so," Fabian turned his attention to his brother, suddenly remembering that awful moment when the Death Eater had pitched him against the wall, "Let's get you to St. Mungo's. You sure you didn't break any ribs?"

XOXOX

"My Lord, I'm sorry," begged Rosier from his kneeling position.

"Sorry isn't good enough," Voldemort raged, "_Crucio!_ She was my best ally! _Crucio! _A source of power unmatched in these islands! Get away from me all of you! You useless fools!"

The Death Eaters bowed hastily and practically ran from the chamber, two of them dragging the supine form of Rosier between them.

Voldemort slumped into his chair, and whispered to the empty low-lit hall, "She was my friend."

XOXOX

**AN:** Minor edits since first publishing.


	18. Tintagel

A/N: Thank you for your patience. We have now come to the mid-season finale. There will now be a 4-6 week break in programming while I write the next bit. Thank you for all your reviews, I hope to see many more of them in future. Thanks to Drac for beta-ing this monstrosity. And so...

**Pureblood Dreams**

by Lilybet

**Chapter Eighteen**

Morrigan awoke into a deep mist of silver laced with gold. She blinked and stretched; it felt as though she had had the best night's sleep since she had arrived at Azkaban. Standing, Morrigan walked the few paces to the bars of her cell. There wasn't a Dementor in sight, instead the Patronus mist filled the corridor, and for the first time there was silence. All the screams and moans had fallen away, leaving peace in their wake.

Feeling mildly confused, Morrigan turned back to examine the Patronus field. It hadn't been like this when she went to sleep. There were lines of gold in it now. Blinking she tried to remember something her mother had said about gold in the magic.

Realisation hit - it was Tintagel's magic, the magic that belonged to the Lady of that isle. If Morrigan had it...

Morrigan took a deep breath, and slowly drew the magic back into herself, a little amazed by the rush she felt. Things had certainly changed in a few short hours. But right now she didn't have time to grieve. Out there was the key and the doors. They called to her now, stronger than ever as Tintagel's magic flowed through her. With this power she could attempt the transformation into her other form. She had been using all her magic just to keep the Dementors at bay. Now that they had vanished for a time she might be able to leave.

Swiftly Morrigan turned the magic inwards and searched out the silken black feathers of Raven. There! She reached for the bird and let herself ease into it, letting her human form drop away. The odd sensation of being turned inside out settled and she looked around with a bird's eye view of the world.

The raven was large and the space small. She felt the draw of the open sky. Opening her wings she launched herself towards the barred window. It would be a tight squeeze. Then the raven let loose a harsh cry of pain – as she had touched the bars they had burned. There was no other option. The raven forced itself through the space, the pain of the iron scraping along her wings and body.

As Raven circled high into the leaden skies above Azkaban it screamed in exultation and grief - she was free!

XOXOX

Pulling the shoulder of his robes up from where they were falling with one hand, Peter opened the infirmary doors with the other. At last he was well enough to be set free. It had been a long lonely two weeks, with endless sleep interrupted by thinking. He had hoped that his friends would come and visit him; he knew Remus was immune to Flykers flu, but in the end he was left by himself. Now, with his energy levels returned to normal he could get back to ordinary life.

Peter turned the corner and almost ran into Professor Dumbledore, who caught him by the shoulder and smiled a little grimly.

"Ahh, Mr Pettigrew, I'm glad I found you. I'm afraid I have to be the bearer of bad news." Dumbledore said.

"What...is it, sir?" said Peter hesitantly.

"Perhaps it would be best if you sat down. Here, this looks like a good place." Dumbledore opened the door to a small office. It looked like it hadn't been used since the last Smallpox epidemic, when a visiting wizard from London had brought the disease to the school. There were a couple of chairs and a table, and with a swish of his wand Dumbledore made the room presentable once more.

Sitting down behind the desk, Dumbledore looked sadly over his half-moon glasses and said, "I received news this morning concerning your brother, Mark."

"What about him, sir?" Peter asked, taking the seat opposite.

"I'm sorry, Peter, he's dead."

"Dead?" Peter, feeling a little confused. His brother, dead?

"Yes." confirmed Dumbledore.

"Oh." Peter fiddled with the edge of his robe, trying to make some sort of sense of what he'd been told. There was no real thought going through his head; just a blank space. He knew he ought to feel something: sad, upset...something.

"My...my parents..." he said, the thought occurring to him that when a person died there was a funeral.

"Will be picking you up at lunch." Professor Dumbledore said kindly.

"Right..." Peter stood up automatically, then turned back due to an ingrained impulse, "Thank you...um. I had better go...pack, yes, pack a bag...um."

Dumbledore watched as the young man wandered a little aimlessly out of the room, comforting himself with the thought that Peter had good friends who would rally round him. He never thought that Peter wouldn't tell them; would consider his problems unworthy of their attention. It was so easy to overlook the stragglers.

XOXOX

Peter pulled socks out of the drawer by his bed, his mind still numb. Stuffing them into the small case on his bed he felt the letters that were hidden inside a particularly odious pair. Slowly he sat down, tugging them free. These were all he had left of his brother now. It seemed strange: that a person could go from a vital presence to dry writing on a page, leaving nothing but words.

Flipping open the envelope, Peter took the series of letters out. He'd kept them all in order, and now he read through them again. The only connection he had with a brother he'd barely known. His hands started shaking, and his vision blurred as tears rolled down his face. Peter took a gasping breath as he realised he was crying for a stranger. Wiping away the tears, he stuffed the letters back in their sock and threw them into the case.

It was almost lunchtime, his parents would be waiting.

XOXOX

Raven flew high above the black tossed sea, riding the winds to shore. She made landfall on the shores of Scotland, and soared on over the valleys and mountains, taking the high road to the heart of the Isles of Britain. The purple moors, covered in heather, dipped and rose under the sun and moon. Faster Raven flew, pushing onwards towards the south and the small promontory of home.

A bright light in the darkness of the night drew the raven's black eye. The mountains of Scotland still rose high around, and a castle clung to the shores of a deep lake. Circling, the raven landed in the deep forest nearby. It shuddered and changed. Morrigan rose from the shimmering feathers and looked at Hogwarts. The Key had been found. She could feel it in her magic and in her blood.

She strode forth, to the forest's edge, and stretched out her natural magic. Whoever had last held the key would be drawn to her, as she was drawn to it.

XOXOX

The hum coming from the bedside table was really starting to annoy Sirius. He was lying in bed trying to fall asleep, but that hum just kept getting in the way. He turned over, hoping that by directing his ears away from the sound he could drift off.

It was no good. Now that he had tuned into it the hum was just there. In his head. Gah. Sitting up, he threw off his covers and scowled at the bedside table. Since that apparently didn't stop the humming, Sirius leaned over and opened the drawer. The shield lay inside, on top of his socks, glowing lightly. Tentatively he picked it up with his good hand. It didn't seem dangerous now. And mercifully the humming had stopped.

"What you doing?" murmured James from across the room.

"Prongs. Sorry, did I wake you?"

"No." James pulled the duvet from his bed and came to sit, completely wrapped, on Sirius' bed, "I couldn't sleep."

"Perhaps we should go outside. Some fresh air..."

James stared at his friend, then something caught his attention. Sirius' eyes were glazed, like he was listening to some distant voice whispering to him. Automatically he looked round, trying to hear what Sirius was hearing, but there was no sound save Remus' steady breathing.

"Let's go outside." Sirius stood up, pulled on a jumper without letting go of the shield, and started for the door.

"Hold on!" cried James, untangling himself from the duvet, "Let's go together, alright?"

"Okay."

James grabbed Sirius' shoes and pushed them into his free hand. Then, making sure Sirius was occupied, he pulled on his own clothes and poked Remus.

"W'sn."

He poked him again.

"G'bng."

"Remus! Wake up now!" James resorted to drastic measures, and held Remus' nose.

"Gah! I'm awake!" Remus shot upright.

XOXOX

James and Remus crept down the stairs after Sirius, trying to persuade him that it was cold and dark and bed was better than going outside. Sirius wasn't listening, his mind was filled with the consuming need to go outside. He couldn't explain it to himself, he just had to take the key outside.

"Where are you going at this hour?" a sleepy voice said from the sofa by the fire.

"Lily?" James said, recognising the tousled hair, "What are you doing up?"

"I'm not. I fell asleep." Lily brandished a book, "Why is Sirius trying to open the door?"

Remus shot forwards and grabbed Sirius' arm, whispering furiously in his ear as the dazed boy tried to break free.

"He's got the shield-"

"Weren't you going to take that to Dumbledore?" interrupted Lily, blinking the sleep out of her eyes and trying to tame her hair from its bird's nest.

"He wasn't there. Remus?"

Sirius had pulled out his wand and hexed Remus, and was now pulling open the door to the common room. Lily and James ran over and tried to stop him leaving, but as Remus de-hexed himself Sirius escaped.

XOXOX

Severus examined the damage caused by Potter's hex in the light from his wand. Once they had all vacated the over-croft space the Marauders had insisted he leave and say nothing to anyone. Even Lily had been determined that he promise not to say anything. Naturally he had lied as he promised, and equally as naturally Potter had disbelieved him and knocked him out. He had woken in a cupboard near the top of the East Tower with a headache and a few cuts.

The last of his injuries healed, Severus looked down from the top of the tower. The forest spread out not far away, the grass between lit by the few lights left on in classrooms and studies. Suddenly a figure emerged from the forest. Severus turned out his wand and waited for his eyes to adjust. Then a light flared beside the figure and the identity revealed. It was Morrigan.

Severus softly said her name in shock. He had thought her taken and trapped by the Ministry, to see her was more than a surprise. His heart began to pump fiercely in his chest and he turned to run down the stairs like a ghost. Who knew how long she had been waiting in the forest, and how much longer she would wait. Along the corridors he sprinted, keeping to the shadows as much as he could.

Once down by the forest he skidded to a stop in the mud, just feet away from her.

"Severus?" Morrigan said, clearly shocked.

"Morrigan. Are you alright?" he said, looking for any signs of maltreatment.

"But you're not...it can't be." Morrigan stuttered, "I mean, hi."

"Hi," Severus replied, a little amused. Then he snapped back to reality and asked, "How are you? Where did they take you?"

Morrigan stiffened and looked away, whispering into the darkness, "Azkaban."

Severus felt his nails dig into the palm of his hand as he clenched his wand tightly; he hadn't realised quite how much this girl had come to mean to him but the anger coursing through him now was realisation enough. "We'll make them pay," he promised vehemently, "Someday, we'll make them pay."

The small smile on Morrigan's face thanked him for his words, even as he saw that she didn't believe that he could keep to them. The thought of someone like Morrigan, innocent and a little helpless, being trapped in a place like that prison was beyond cruel. The Dark Lord was right to bring down the Ministry. Any government that treated minors like that was wrong.

Severus frowned, if Morrigan had been taken to Azkaban, the most unassailable prison ever built then, "How did you get here?"

"My mother's dead," Morrigan said, closing her eyes against the tears.

"I-I'm sorry." Severus tried to sound compassionate, but he failed to see the connection between that unfortunate fact and his question.

Morrigan nodded in acknowledgement, and took a calming breath, "Tintagel's power is now mine to command. I already had an unusual power but now...now I could..." The realisation in her voice was evident, and became tinged with anger as she went on, "I can't bring her back...But I can make them pay." Her eyes lit up with a unnatural fury and a gleeful lilt came over her, "I can make them _all_ pay. I know where an inhuman power lies."

"The doors," Severus smiled, it seemed like everything was coming together.

"You know of them?" Morrigan seemed surprised, "You've seen the key? Who has it?"

"Sirius Black," Severus said, and gestured towards a group of people he had just spotted emerging from the castle. There was no doubt it would be those Marauders, they were always around whether they were wanted or not.

"And not alone," Morrigan noted, "That could be a problem." She turned to Severus and touched his arm, "Severus, will you help me?"

Severus took a moment, noting the passage of the Marauders as he contemplated. Here, in the person of Morrigan, was a power the like of which he had never seen. To ally himself with her would be a strong move. But if half of what he had read about those beyond the doors was true then he should really oppose her. The thought of standing beside all that power, of maybe having a hand in directing it...it was an alluring idea.

"Yes," he said firmly.

Morrigan's shoulders relaxed slightly, and she placed her hand on his chest. Severus felt a odd tingling and looked down at his hands: they were vanishing! He looked back up at her in shock, only to receive a smile.

"Stay close," she whispered, "and you won't get hurt."

Severus stepped back and watched as the Marauders, led by Black, closed on their position under the eaves of the forest. The light which Morrigan had summoned now vied for brilliance with the glow coming from Sirius' palm. The shield shaped key had clearly responded to whatever Morrigan had done to summon it.

"Morrigan? I thought you were taken away by the Ministry!" Potter blurted as they came within the light's arc.

"Sirius," Morrigan said sibilantly, ignoring Potter's outburst, "You have the key."

"Yes," Sirius replied, and now that he was closer Severus could see that his eyes were glazed and that his fingers were white with pressure where he was holding the key so tight.

"Show me," commanded Morrigan.

"It's going to Dumbledore. That's what we've agreed, isn't it Sirius?" James said, taking Sirius' shoulder.

"Yeah," said Black hesitantly.

"Why are you here? Did the key call you?" Lupin asked what was possibly the first intelligent question from the quartet.

"Where have you been?" Lily interrupted, her concern evident in her voice. "Are you alright? The last I saw of you you were being taken away from here by Aurors."

From where he was invisibly standing Severus could see that the barrage of questions from the others were getting to Morrigan. Her shoulders tensed and her hands clenched. Little eddies of wind got up around the groups ankles, and Severus could see she was about to snap. He stepped up behind her, careful not to break any twigs, and placed a light hand on her shoulder.

The knowledge that she wasn't alone clearly calmed her, and she straightened, "Fine, you can all come."

"Come where?" asked Lily warily.

The flurries of wind changed and circled round the group, Morrigan spread her hands and gold filaments joined the rustling leaves. "Tintagel, fy castell, fy cartref. Dod ni mewn eich muriau!" she spoke clearly and firmly, the magic rising with the wind and constructing a cage around them all.

Severus looked around a tad nervously, he had never seen such a display of power. Then it seemed as if the landscape around him melted away with Morrigan's words, the trees blending in with one another, then into the grass. The world turned a greenish-grey colour as if someone had upended a beaker of water over a painting. Then bits and pieces began to take form again, shadows re-emerged and walls grew out of the slightly sickening sight.

He blinked and in a moment the world settled around him. They were in a vast hall, larger it seemed than Hogwarts' Great Hall, with a balcony running around the top and a fire roaring in the horse-sized hearth.

"Welcome to Tintagel," Morrigan said with a trace of pain in her voice.

XOXOX

In the great arched hall of Tintagel castle the motley group stood in shock. They had been transported by an old and powerful magic from one end of the country to the other. Instead of the winds through the glens of Scotland they now heard the constant pounding roar of the sea off the coast of Cornwall.

James took in the vast arched hall in which they stood, the magnificent tapestries on the walls and the warm fire in the hearth. His eyes landed on Sirius beside him, the glazed expression on his face now deeper than before. The shield was starting to cut into the palm of his hand. Anger blazed through James and he turned to where Morrigan was standing.

"What's going on? And what is that thing doing to Sirius?" he burst out.

Morrigan wiped a tear away from her face. She had half been expecting to find her mother in her usual seat by the fire, but she was gone. Dead, and Morrigan didn't even know how. She turned to look at James; here was someone who, like the rest of the wizarding world, had been in darkness and ignorance for too long.

She tilted her head and shrugged slightly, it was time to tell the truth, "That is the key to a pair of very ancient doors. My family has been trying to find it for a while now."

"What are you talking about?" asked James, "I don't see any doors."

Morrigan walked over to one of the arches and lit the brand ensconced there. The light flared for a moment but when it settled, Remus, James, Lily and Sirius could see there was a staircase leading down into the castle. Morrigan gestured them to follow her, and walked through, pulling the brand out of its sconce as she did.

"The doors lead to the Otherworld," she began,"It is a world of energy, of magic, and of imprisonment. Three thousand years ago a race of beings were sent there. The Elves. They ruled over the land of Albion with power and fear until one family of witches rose up against them. Together the six sisters banished the elves to that realm, never to return, never to plague mortal man again. One, the youngest, gave her life to that end."

She paused for a moment as the stair turned a tight corner. Here the blocks of worked stone had been fashioned with a groove to act as a banister. The stairs, though relatively unworn, were narrow. She turned a little sideways, glancing up at the others. James and Sirius led the way, with Lily at the back.

"The one key that could open the doors was kept hidden by the family, passed down through the generations, until it was stolen. By Merlin."

"Merlin...THE Merlin?"

"Yes." Morrigan's voice echoed with displeasure up the stairs. It sounded distant and somehow accented, though Lily had never noticed her having an accent before. "He felt that the Le Fay's could not be trusted. He had no idea what he was doing and changed everything.

"You see magic, Wild Magic, which allows Muggles to have wizarding children, comes through rips between this world and the Otherworld. Most of the rips have been closed but this is the last in Britian, this one that lies beneath Tintagel. It is open, alive, guarded only by the doors. The key acts as a portal through which the Wild Magic can come even when the doors are closed. Without it being here, with the Isle, the portal closes."

"No more Muggleborns," said Remus.

At the back of the group Lily stumbled slightly. The tale that Morrigan was telling was amazing; and it was clear from James' engrossed listening that it wasn't known by the magical population. If it was, Lily thought, surely they would have done something to help.

As the tale and the stairs wound their way down, the dressed stone changed into natural rock. The steps grew more treacherous as a thin film of water coated the surface, making everything slick. Lily could taste the salt of the sea in the air, and hear the booming sound coming from below clearly. They were deep into the peninsula now.

"More like less Muggleborns." she said, her voice echoing. "The Le Fay's have been trying to find the key for over a thousand years, without much luck. So thank you Sirius." She smiled back at the dazed boy, though in the ill light stairwell it seemed to Lily more like a feral grin than a grateful smile.

"Then nearly twenty years ago my grandmother had an idea. We had a great source of power behind the doors, maybe we could use it to find the key. If she could get an elf beyond the doors, into this world, he would act as a portal. Somehow she tricked one into inhabiting a human and laying with my mother - thus transferring a great amount of Wild Magic to her. The result was exactly as my grandmother had hoped, and my mother was able to divine that the key had been hidden by one of the four founders of Hogwarts.

"Unfortunately before she was able to act on this information, my grandmother went to fight Grindelwald and died. And the Ministry, made aware of the Le Fays again, placed restrictions upon us. It wasn't until the latest Dark Lord rose that my mother realised there was a scion of a Founder alive and well; someone she could interrogate for information." Morrigan said as they came to the end of the stairs. Behind Lily the air seemed to sigh with understanding; all the pieces finally fell into place. "My being at Hogwarts was a wonderful coincidence, and Sirius finding the key a perfect answer."

"What happens now? Surely just bringing the key here is enough," Remus asked, and turned slightly. He thought he'd heard Lily slip behind him. "The portal is open again. Why are you bringing us down here?"

"Because my mother is dead and I want revenge," Morrigan muttered inaudibly, and she lifted the flaming brand high. They had emerged from the long dark stairwell into an antechamber hewn from the natural granite. The light was thrown around the space by the quartz crystals, creating diffuse shadows everywhere.

At the opposite side of the space, incongruously, a wooden door blocked the way. Its panels were rough as though they had never been touched, save in one place, and yet it looked as old as the carved stone in which it was set.

"Is that the door?" asked James. Surely the doors which Morrigan was intent on getting to were more impressive that this.

"No," sneered Morrigan, "But it is the only door my magic couldn't open as a child." She reached out a hand and James recoiled as Wild Magic, a stunning gold, emerged from her skin and danced around her fingers. As she touched the worn place on the door James heard an audible click and the door swung open.

Beyond, an even greater cavern opened up before them. The air was filled with faint music and dancing lights. James felt his hair stand on end, the magic in the room was palpable. Wild Magic, untamed and deadly - the sort of thing that kids used before they were given a wand.

There, seemingly grown out of the raw stone, the doors rose before them. Beaten bronze inlaid with pure silver like the twisted branches of a winter tree. They reached up the height of a double decker bus, and could fit three shire horses through their width. About chest height a line of small shields were forged into the metal. James recognised the lion of Gryffindor, the serpent of Slytherin, and elements from the Black's crest and his own. Here was the source of the Pureblood heritage - hidden beneath a storm swept peninsula on the South coast of England.

"Over sea and under home, lie the doors to Elven home." Morrigan spoke into the space, her voice like the clear ringing of a bell, "I have waited for so long to see this. And now I can set them free."

"What do you mean? Surely the doors have to stay closed." Remus said, alarmed. The magic in the air was making his bones itch. It was the same feeling that he had every month, yet different, somehow more controlled. "You'd be letting the Elves loose on the world!"

"Keeping them shut is what the Le Fays have been working for. Except, of course, I'm not entirely a Le Fay." Morrigan walked up the few steps to the doors, drawn to the sound of voices beyond.

"What?"

"When my mother gained the power from beyond the doors, she also gained me. I am partially of the Otherworld. I am, as it were, an elf." Morrigan said sideways, her attention on the doors. She ran her hands over the warm metal, finding the space in the row of shields where the key Sirius held would fit. "And I can hear them. My kin. All my life they've been wanting me to set them free, to open the doors. And now I finally can. It has to be done by a human, hmm..."

"You can't!" Lily gasped, the idea of releasing the destructive force of the Elves sending shivers through her.

"They locked me up with Dementors. They killed my Mother. I will have my revenge. And if it frees my kin - all the better!" Morrigan cried out, then turned and focused all her power Sirius. "Sirius. Place the key in the space. Unlock the doors!"

All throughout the descent into the bedrock, and the telling of the story of the Le Fays Sirius had been fighting. The whispered voices in his mind telling him to leave Hogwarts and come here, to the great cavern and the fiercely magical doors were still there. Ever since he had seen the doors the voices had shifted; they were coming from the other side. They wanted him to obey Morrigan and open the doors.

But Sirius had read the Black Book, he had seen the ancient carving depicted there of the Elves and what they did. They would destroy the magical world for no other reason than revenge. He had to find the strength to deny Morrigan the chance to free them; her kin. "No," he snapped.

Morrigan just shook her head at him, a hard smile gracing her face, "Fine. Imperio," she cast. "Now, unlock the doors."

The others pulled their wand from their pockets at the Unforgivable curse. Lily could hardly believe her ears. This girl who she had befriended was surely not capable of this! But as she tensed herself, ready to leap into action, spells running through her mind, James cried out.

"Stop this! Sirius!" James ran across the space towards the doors, and grabbed hold of Morrigan's arm. She snarled at him and made a pushing motion with her hand. James slid back, barely standing upright, his grip broken. He shook his head clear and raised his wand.

In front of him the world seemed to ripple oddly for a moment and then Severus Snape stepped forward, his wand pointed squarely at James.

"Not so fast, Potter," he said, blocking the way.

"Snape!" Remus yelped.

"Didn't you hear what's beyond there?" Lily cried, unable to believe that her once-friend would willing let the doors be opened and the Elves released.

"Yes. And if I could I would willingly open them myself." Snape said proudly, the idea of those doors being open and letting Wild Magic free setting his heart pounding.

"You're mad," James declared, and snapped out a stunning spell.

Snape dodged quickly, and drew his wand in a slashing motion, "Sectumsempra!"

James stopped in his tracks, agony blossoming across his chest. Dazed he put a hand up and looked, bemused, as it came away bloody. He dropped to his knees, the pain and shock clouding his mind and making him suddenly away of the faint music in the room, the pretty lights and the hard granite walls.

"James!" Lily screamed, dashing over just in time to catch him as he fell back. She looked up at Snape, tears streaming down her face, "What have you done?"

Snape swallowed, but held his nerve, turning his wand on the only other threat in the room, "Don't even think about it, werewolf," he snarled.

Behind him Sirius couldn't fight the curse that had taken hold of his mind. He had no choice but to obey as Morrigan once again commanded, "That's it, open the doors."

"Morrigan, stop!" Remus yelled futilely.

It was too late, Sirius placed the shield in the gap and Morrigan let loose with all the magic at her command. The doors shuddered, Morrigan's magic sealing the key into place and completing the winding lines of silver. Power that had been trapped, sedated for aeons, flowed free again. A series of loud creaks heralded a burst of white light as the line between the doors widened.

Then the doors burst open, power spilling from them, lashing across the space. All but Morrigan fell to the ground, their heads spinning and their vision fading. Just before Lily blacked out she saw Morrigan's dark form surrounded by the white light and heard the sound of brass horns and cheers.

The doors were open. The Elves were free!

XOXOX

**End of Part One.**

**Please review, your feedback alters the story in ways I cannot expect and adds so much more. Thank you.**


	19. Interlude

A/N: All reviews will be forwarded to both co-authors. Halfblood Dreams will begin on 29th May.

**Interlude**

by Half-Drowned Dracula & Lilybet

Heavy clouds threatened rain over the cemetery. Peter stood by the head of the grave, watching as the coffin was lowered into the ground. Around him stood family, friends, all somber in their grief for Mark Pettigrew. A man Peter had hardly known, a man he should have been able to call brother.

The service ended and people began to murmur, some coming up to Peter and his parents, pressing condolences and pity into their private grief.

A thin man separated himself from his red robed brethren. Peter's father pressed hands with him.

"A tragic loss," the man said in a thick Eastern European accent, "Mark and I were like brothers. He will be sorely missed."

He moved off, the rest of his group following, muttering amongst themselves. Peter watched him go.

"Like brothers," he said to himself.

"And yet he was yours."

Peter's head whipped round, "Wh-what are you doing here, M-Malfoy?"

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow at the flower-lined grave, "I am here to mourn."

"Mourn..." Peter repeated, still struggling with the concept of mourning someone he didn't know.

As the first drops of rain began to fall, beating out a tattoo on the casket, Peter looked up. The feel of rain on his face was good, it meant he didn't have to cry. All his tears would be provided. Then, with a snap, the rain was separated from him. Lucius had opened an umbrella over them both. He smiled down at the younger, plump, boy and gestured for them to walk along the gravel paths back to the warmth of the carriages.

"What do you want from me, Malfoy?" Peter asked, emboldened by the thought of the reception food back at the house.

"I would like for you to call me Lucius,"

"…Lucius." The name felt wrong on his tongue.

"I don't _want_ anything from you, Peter," Malfoy - Lucius – said, stepping lightly around a growing puddle.

"You – You don't?"

"That would be awfully vicious of me, don't you think?"

Shrugging, Peter found himself shuffling deeper under the protection of the umbrella as the rain picked up its beat. It was really pounding down now. Peter hoped that this didn't mean thunder was on the way. He hated thunder, it always made him jump.

"I knew Mark quite well," Lucius said.

"Really?" Peter was surprised, he didn't know that Mark knew-had known-anyone in England, "What - what was he like?"

Lucius may have been smiling inside at Peter's acceptance of the bait, but on the outside he remained the grieving mourner. "Mark was brave, loyal...an exceptional wizard. And a trusted ally."

"An ally?"

"Peter," Lucius' pale hand took Peter's shoulder in a comforting grip, "-if you ever, _ever_ need an ally yourself-"

"Why would I-" Peter asked.

"-You can always come to me."


	20. More Questions Than Answers

**Half-blood Nightmares**

by Lilybet

Chapter One

Twilight rolled into the valley where Hogwarts stood, the boats and carriages picked out by the westering light as they pulled up to the castle. It was a slightly somber group of teachers that greeted the new and returning students, ushering them into the defensible compound.

The Marauders stood on the steps, talking quietly amongst themselves. Now seventh years, they felt the weight of the storm that raged outside the high walls. Within one short school year they would be thrust out to face the dangers themselves.

Since the defeat of Maeve Le Fay, the Aurors had been under greater pressure than ever. The full force of the Dark Lord's anger had rained down on the heads of unsuspecting Muggles and partially-prepared Wizards alike. The Ministry had swiftly discovered that Witches and Wizards weren't the only tools in his armoury. To Remus' abiding horror a pack of werewolves rampaged through East Anglia, killing and turning people under the full moon. Dementors swept over the sea from Azkaban to feed under the Dark Lord's command.

Every day people returned from work, fearful that today would see the symbol of death hovering over their homes.

Which explained why James was looking over the heads of students, trying to spot the flame-red hair of Lily Evans. Somehow they had managed to miss each other on the train. He knew she was alive and well as of last week, since he had received a note from her. But he also knew from his father, an Auror, that there had been a series of Muggle disappearances in her county over the last two weeks and he was worried.

"James?" asked Sirius, noting his friend's preoccupation.

"Lily," James breathed, smiling. He had just caught sight of her talking animatedly to a brown head he thought belonged to Alice.

Peter looked confused at James calling Sirius 'Lily' and pointed at the Black boy, "Sirius," he corrected.

"Peter?" James asked, looking from one friend to the other. Shaking his head in bemusement he half-pointed over to the girls and said, "I just saw Lily."

"Ohh," Sirius nudged James and winked, "You going to show her your-"

"Shut up," James said lightly, taking a step down as Lily and Alice reached the main entrance.

Lily had her hair in a loose plait and was tugging the end as she spoke, "-but Petunia wouldn't listen to me. So she's planning on moving her with her girl friends in London when my parents move. _London_. I mean, of all the possible-" Lily looked over and saw the boys. "Remus!" She leapt up the few steps and pulled the skinny boy into a hug, "How are you? I didn't see you on the train."

"I'm fine. How were your holidays, Lily?" Remus asked, smiling.

"Infuriating. I'll tell you all about it later."

"I see you got Head Girl."

"Yeah." Lily glanced down at the silver badge, brushing an imaginary bit of dust off it.

Next to them Sirius elbowed James, who knocked him away. The movement caught Alice's attention, and as she watched the boys bat at each other something bright really caught her eye.

"Is that the Head Boy badge? Potter? Are you-"

"Yes, he is." Sirius interrupted, looking pointedly at Lily.

"Really?" she asked quietly.

James dislodged himself from Sirius and met Lily's gaze, "Yeah, I'm Head Boy."

There was a tense silence; at the end of fifth year Lily and James had made a deal, if he stopped pranking for a year and became Head Boy she would agree to go on a date with him. Although last year had been eventful, James had stuck to his word and Dumbledore had seen fit to reward his change in behaviour.

"Congratulations," said Lily.

"Thank you." James broke her gaze and looked out over the lake, noting that all the first year boats were docked, "It looks like everyone's here. Shall we have dinner?" he asked the group.

A resounding 'YES' came from Peter and Sirius and they all wandered inside, Frank joining them as they swapped stories from the summer.

As they turned the corner into the magnificent Great Hall Sirius spotted Severus Snape slowly making his way into the feast. Sirius dropped back, watching as James walked past, not looking at Snape or acknowledging him at all. It had been like that all last term. Sirius felt differently, what Snape had done to James was unforgivable, and although Sirius would continue to abide by Dumbledore's ruling that didn't stop him from defending his best friend.

He closed on Snape, pushing him against the wall, wand digging into his ribs. "If you come near any of us this year, I will personally see that you get _exactly_ what you deserve," he hissed, the anger in his face making Snape blanch.

Then Sirius walked on and joined the others at the table, laughing and smiling, glad to be in each other's company again.

As the first years lined up for the Sorting James glanced up at the teacher's table, only to find that Professor Dumbledore was looking thoughtfully at him. They made eye contact and James recalled the last time he had been in the Headmaster's office under that gaze. It had been the day after Tintagel...

"_I must ask you not to speak about this to anyone, not even those who were there with you," said Albus Dumbledore, examining James over his half-moon glasses._

"_But, sir, what about the Elves?" James asked, vaguely remembering the awful sound of an endless army of marching feet; the Elves intent on invading Britain and enslaving its inhabitants._

"_Tintagel has its own magic, just like Hogwarts. The castle will protect itself and the magical world from the Elves. It will vanish from this world. It can hold out a long time; its magic is old and strong," Dumbledore assured, his long hands steepled in front of him as he considered the ramifications of the night past, "In fact I believe it was Tintagel that healed you, James."_

_James' hand went to his chest, his fingers dipping inside his shirt collar to run over the top of the long scar he'd been left with. It didn't hurt, nor was it red, but James knew that its raised line across his body would never let him forget that painful moment when Snape's curse had hit and blood stained his shirt._

Shaking his head, James pulled himself out of recollection and broke eye contact with the Headmaster. He grinned across the table at Sirius; the Sorting was about to begin – the last time Sirius would get to exercise his guessing powers against which first year would end up in which house. James' gaze slid along the table to Lily, who was watching the Sorting begin attentively, and James smiled to himself. This year was definitely going to be better than last year.

/\/\/\/\/\

James walked down the ill-lit corridor, the invisible muttering presence of Sirius by his side. He was doing his Head Boy rounds; checking for curfew breakers and strange goings-on. Sirius had insisted that he come with, 'for company'. James thought it was more likely that Sirius wanted to come for the sheer hell of it. He'd agreed on one condition – the invisibility cloak. Though right now James was wishing that it didn't just make people invisible but inaudible too.

"- so I told her that it was entirely possible. Of course she didn't believe me but-"

"Sirius, will you shut up for just one minute," James hissed.

"Why? Don't you want to hear about-"

"NO."

"Ooo, what's that?"

James sighed as Sirius' short attention span flicked from one thing to another. The floating hand was pointing at two figures further down the corridor. James grabbed the hand, hoping Sirius was at the end of it, and backed close to the wall. Technically this was something that, as Head Boy, he ought to investigate, but there was something about the way the hooded figure was standing that screamed real trouble. Dark trouble.

A light footstep signalled that Sirius wasn't interested in safety. "Sirius, come back here," James whispered forcefully.

"What's she doing here? How did she get in?" came the unhelpful reply, now close to his ear.

"What are you talking about?" James asked.

Sirius didn't need to reply, because at that moment the figure turned and the light caught her profile. Bellatrix Lestrange, formally Black and almost certain Death Eater. James rubbed his glasses. She couldn't be in the castle. She wasn't a student or a teacher, and somehow he doubted Dumbledore would invite her back. The person she was talking to opened a door which led to some spiral stairs, and as she entered James saw that it was Snape. Snape and Bellatrix meeting in a Hogwarts room. Not good.

He felt a tugging, light at first and then pointedly growing stronger, drawing him into a nearby classroom. James closed the door quietly behind him as Sirius whipped off the cloak and gestured soundlessly and wildly.

"Yes," said James, "I saw. And I'll speak to Dumbledore about it."

"What?" Sirius found his voice, "No, no, no. You don't need to do that. We'll find out ourselves. Track her movements, interrogate Snape..."

"Sirius," James said firmly, "I'll ask Dumbledore about her. Now drop it."

"I think that Head Boy badge has gone to your head," Sirius scoffed, throwing the cloak at James, "You don't need to go a _teacher_, we're more than capable of finding out what's going on."

"Were you not here last year?" James said, getting angry, "When all we _found_ was trouble. We should have gone to Dumbledore then and we certainly should now, before we go messing around."

"When did you get all responsible?" Sirius muttered, not intending to be heard.

James did hear, and after all the little things, all the times this year already that James had bailed Sirius out of trouble, it was the last straw. He snapped and half-yelled, "Maybe when you pulled a certain little prank, or maybe when I got _this_," he pulled up his shirt, revealing the scar tissue, "I don't know, Sirius, maybe I just think it's about time we grew up and started taking a little responsibility."

"There's no need to bring that up," Sirius said sourly, referring to the prank two years ago which had caused a rift between Remus and him, "I said I was sorry. I have my regrets."

"Maybe you out to start acting like it!"

"What is wrong with you?" Sirius responded at the same volume, "You're acting all weird. First you get Head Boy but don't ask Lily out, the girl you've been chasing for six years. And now we have a chance to find out what Death Eaters are doing _inside_ _Hogwarts_ and you want to go to Dumbledore?"

"Stay out of mine and Lily's relationship!" James shouted.

"What relationship?"

James threw up his hands and walked away, heading for the door. He was about to leave when he turned back and said in voice still shaking with rage, "You know, you need to seriously take a look around you. Things aren't happy-go-lucky anymore."

Sirius winced as the door slammed, then kicked a desk hard. This wasn't what he'd call a good evening.

/\/\/\

The only light in the Gryffindor common room was the fire, newly stirred and radiating heat. James stared into it, his head resting on his hand, thoughts whirling round in his head. Every so often he muttered to himself. He didn't look up as the portrait opened and closed, or as someone sat down next to him.

"James? You alright?" Lily asked.

"Fine," he grunted.

"No you're not. You've been sitting there like a thundercloud for hours. Practically chased all the night owls away." Lily smiled.

"Had a huge fight with Sirius," James admitted, not looking away from the fire.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"He's just being an idiot. Says I've come over all responsible." James' tone looked for support in denying this pronouncement.

"Well, you kinda have," Lily admitted.

"Not you too."

"Sorry."

"It's alright. You're probably right." James sighed and leaned back into the soft cushions of the sofa, "But I kinda had to. You've seen what it's like out there. I can't keep on messing around, playing pranks, and not thinking my actions through. I have to take responsibility." He paused. "My dad said something to me over the holidays. He said I'd make a good Auror. In fact he said I'd make a good team leader."

"You would," agreed Lily.

"Why? Why me?" James asked, turning sideways and curling one leg onto the sofa.

"You have that kinda...Charisma, that makes people want to follow you. People can trust you." Lily laid a hand on top of his, "And you do think things through, a lot more than you give yourself credit for. You know how to use people to the best of their ability and you get them to work as a team. You lead by example, I've seen it out there on the Quidditch Pitch. You _would_ make a good Auror."

"You're making me blush," James said, half jokingly. He'd never heard Lily so demonstrative about his good qualities, or any of his qualities beyond that of annoying her.

"James," Lily leaned in a little, "Don't doubt yourself."

"Thanks," James said, really meaning it. She had completely dispelled his bad mood and given him the confidence to face Sirius' critique of his more thoughtful stance on life.

"You're welcome," Lily said, leaning back and making herself comfortable, "What started this argument with Sirius anyway?"

"We saw Bellatrix."

"Here? In Hogwarts?" Lily exclaimed.

James nodded, "She was meeting with Snape. They went down towards the main door. I think they were leaving."

"What was she doing here in the first place? Meeting with Snape?" Lily frowned, "We should ask Dumbledore about this."

"That's what I said!" James cried, pointing at her.

"And Sirius wanted to what? Follow her?" Lily asked, gaining a fuller understanding of the argument.

"Interrogate Snape."

Lily shook her head, it was such a Sirius suggestion. Something like this shouldn't be left to the students, even the Heads. They had been instructed, if they saw the slightest hint of Death Eater activity in Hogwarts they were to inform the Headmaster immediately. Take no action. All the students knew that. James had only been following orders.

"Well, there's nothing can do right now," she shrugged helplessly, "We'll talk to Dumbledore in the morning." At James' nod she stretched and stood up, "You going to bed?"

"I think I'll wait up for Sirius. Try to fix this," James said, smiling happily at the sight of her lit by the soft fire. _If I had my way_, he thought, _she'd always be lit by firelight._

"He's still out there?" Lily asked, debating internally about the fact that he was out after curfew. Way after curfew.

"Yeah," James shrugged, as if to say, 'it's Sirius'.

"Just remember he's the idiot, not you," Lily advised.

"I will."

Lily started climbing the stairs up to her dorm, when a thought crossed her mind and she turned back, "James. Why haven't you asked me out?"

"Do you want me to?" he responded lightly.

"I, er, um," Lily sputtered.

"Goodnight Lily," James said, coming to her rescue.

"Goodnight James," She replied, rushing up the stairs.

James sat in the warmth from the fire and smiled a secret little smile. So much for Sirius thinking he and Lily didn't have a relationship.

/\/\/\/\/\

**A/N: Updates will be either weekly or fortnightly depending on real life commitments. **


	21. The First Date

**Apologies for the delay, exams y'know. As always this chapter was Beta-ed by Half-Drowned Dracula, many thanks. I would love your feedback on this chapter, does it work? Is it what you imagined? LB**

Chapter Two

by Lilybet

Remus pulled himself up onto his feet, took a step forward and fell over. Confused, he blinked, trying to get rid of the grey mass in front of his eyes. It didn't clear. He pawed at it, only to make contact with his muzzle. _Muzzle?_ Remus thought blearily, _I don't have a muzzle._ Struggling up he sat back on his haunches and looked at his hand. It was a paw. O_h,_ he thought, _I'm Moony._

Then he thought, _I'm thinking. That's odd._

Moony whined and lay down, his head on his huge paws. Over the last few months he had become more aware of what was happening when he was transformed. His moonlit nights had been growing less dreamlike and more real. But now...he could feel his dark desires – the wolf – as a rising presence in his mind. It was still there, but clearly his own human mind was growing in dominance. Muscles rippled as he shifted uneasily.

A scrabbling sound brought his head up and the door opened. The scent of venison wafted in. Inside his mind the wolf rushed forwards; _prey, the hunt, bloodlust_. Remus backed down in front of the terrible force. Yet he knew somehow that there would be a time when he could win. For the first time, as the werewolf snarled its way into existence, Remus felt a dash of hope.

XOXOX

"I can do this. I can. I've done it before," James said as he walked down the stairs to dinner.

"Of course all those times it didn't go too well," commented Sirius.

"Thank you for that."

"It'll be different this time. This time he has the power to put her in detention if she says no," said Remus, a twinkle in his eye.

"She won't say no," said James confidently.

"That's the spirit!" Remus cheered.

James growled at both his friends and stalked into the hall, sitting down with a scowl. He piled potatoes onto his plate with a vengeance, each scoop punctuating a diatribe against unhelpful friends. He was so preoccupied that he failed to notice Lily entering the hall and sitting down a few seats away. Until, that is, she asked what was wrong.

"Lily. Lily!" he acknowledged with a start, "Lily-"

"We've established her name at least," muttered Sirius to a grinning Remus.

"There's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up," James said, ignoring the aside.

"There is," said Lily, reaching for the chicken.

"Would you like to go...with me. To Hogsmeade," James said in bursts.

Lily looked along the table, raising an eyebrow at the two laughing Marauders, then back at James. He was biting his lip and running a hand through his hair nervously.

"Yes," she replied simply.

XOXOX

James was waiting outside when Lily emerged from the castle. A smile lit his face as he caught sight of her, and Lily couldn't help but return it. Since sometime last year Lily had been toying with the idea of _actually_ going out with him, and over the summer she had made the decision that their one date would not be the only date. When she had got back to school six weeks ago and seen the Head Boy badge pinned to James' chest Lily had been secretly relieved. As the weeks had passed and no date had emerged she had become more confused. After six years of chasing had James finally given up?

"You look beautiful," he said, "Of course, you always look beautiful, but..." He spread his arms, took her hand and kissed it like a gentleman.

And Lily was glad all over again that the answer to _her_ question was 'no'.

Taking his proffered arm they joined the other students heading for Hogsmeade. They were about half way there before Lily noticed the total absence of Remus or Sirius.

"How did you get rid of the laughing duo?"

"I really wish I could say that they were in detention for such rude behaviour," James said wistfully, "But, alas, not. Sirius _is_ actually in detention. I'm not sure what for. And Remus was intelligent enough to make other plans than bothering us."

Laughing, Lily strolled on. As they walked they talked, covering a multitude of subjects from school to friends, to the ridiculous meeting they'd had with the new prefects. The one subject they stayed away from was the war. That would _not_ have been a good topic for their conversation, filled as it was with little glances and fleeting electricity-filled touches.

They reached Hogsmeade in good time and wandered round the shops and farmers market stalls. James bought Lily a leather bracelet in reds and golds, and Lily dragged James into a bookshop insisting there was a book he _had_ to read. By the time they were done with the shops they had both lost their nerves and relaxed into each other's company. James even teased Lily about her attitude towards exams, doing an exaggerated impression of her and getting punched for his trouble.

It wound towards afternoon tea-time, and Lily asked if James had a preference of eating place.

"We could always go to the Three Broomsticks," he suggested, "Or there is this new place, Madam...Puddifoot's. I've not been there, but apparently it serves great cakes."

"Alright," agreed Lily, and they headed towards the bottom of town.

James held the door for Lily as they entered the small café. From the outside Puddifoot's looked like a nice place, and the cake list in the window was certainly enticing. But from the inside...

"My goodness," murmured James.

"Quite," said Lily.

Pink and frills and ... It was like walking into a lace factory after the pink dye pack had exploded. Every surface was covered in delicate soft furnishings. Lace place mats on every table, doilies under the cake stands, and every tablecloth and chair was in a soft shade of pink.

James and Lily looked at each other, their shocked expressions perfectly mirrored for a second.

"Shall we?" James said. They sat down at the closest table and he pulled a menu out of the stand. The selection of cakes was certainly wide, choosing would be difficult. He looked up, over the menu at Lily.

"You look uncomfortable."

She gave a small noise of agreement and a half shrug. James leaned forwards and asked, "Shall we go somewhere else?"

"Somewhere that doesn't clash with my hair," Lily said with a pained smile as she rose with alacrity. James got up and they both escaped the pink profusion. "Who told you about that place?" she asked.

"Who do you think?" James said darkly.

"Sirius," they said in unison, and broke out laughing.

"I really hope that's not his idea of romantic. Otherwise..." she shook her head, "I pity the girl who goes out with him."

Once they were seated in the Three Broomsticks, had ordered, and were waiting for their food to come, James leaned over the table and took Lily's hand.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, squeezing his hand lightly, "In fact we may have to do this again."

A wide grin slowly broke out on James' face. Six years of refusals, six years of planning, six years of hopes dashed, and all it needed was one deal, one day. It had paid off, all the following her around, gathering information. He may not be the expert on Lily Evans but he was pretty damn close.

Lily broke their hands as the food arrived and she tucked into a nice piece of carrot cake. James just sat watching her, his own chocolate creation abandoned, until Lily looked up and blushed. Then he gave a small self-depreciating laugh and tried, though his cheeks were sore from smiling, to eat.

XOXOX

Severus was heading back up to school from the rare book shop when he saw them. His heart leaped a little sideways as he saw Lily take Potter's hand. A blatant expression of surprise that turned to happiness was plastered over Potter's face. Over both their faces. Severus scowled deeply before pushing whatever remained of his feelings for Lily deeper inside. He knew that technically he ought to be happy that she was happy, but it was Potter who was making her smile. Besides, if he cared she'd only disappoint him - like Morrigan.

After all the promises she had vanished without a trace, it was as if she had never been in his life at all. The only evidence that last year had contained anything unusual was the lack of antagonism from Potter, and the _Prophet_ article that said the Ministry were looking into the strange fog bank off Northern Cornwall. Well, that and...

He shifted the paper-wrapped set of books so they weren't pressing against the inner elbow of his left arm. The mark there still stung a bit, but Lucius Malfoy said that it would ease in time. And he'd had his for over a year now. Severus smiled a little to himself. Let Sirius Black bluster all he wanted, once school was over a new game would begin, and Severus was already allied with the most powerful piece on the board.

XOXOX

Lily woke in the middle of the night to Alice hissing her name. As she sat up reluctantly and rubbed the sleep from her eyes Lily became aware of an odd knocking at the door.

"What is it? Who is it?" she asked muzzily.

"We don't know – it's been going on for ages now," Alice moaned.

"It's been about five minutes," corrected Beatrice tetchily.

Groaning, Lily reached for her wand determined to shed some light on the situation so she could go back to sleep. The knocking was certainly insistent, going on and on at the same soft pace. It was no wonder Lily had been sleeping through it.

"_Lumos_," she muttered, wanting a low light. Her wand flared, the light completely out of proportion to her wishes. It lit every dark corner of the room, chasing away all shadows and causing Alice and Beatrice to yell.

"_Nox_," she incanted quickly, blinking against the painful sunburst behind her eyelids. Lily shook her wand, tapping it against her palm. "Let's try that again," she said, "_Lumos_."

This time a more reasonable light flickered into existence and the girls sighed with relief. Lily frowned at her wand, it seemed like a lot of her spells had been overpowered lately. Maybe she ought to her her wand checked next time she was in Diagon Alley. The continuous knocking drew Lily's attention away from her wand; it was definitely coming from the dorm door opposite her bed and, somehow, in the light it seemed more audible than ever.

"Why didn't you open the door?" she asked.

"You're Head Girl, you open the door," Alice said.

"You're closer," Lily pointed out. There was something a little creepy about the knocking that made her reluctant to investigate. Besides, it was warm in bed.

"I don't want to," complained Alice.

"Well I don't want to either."

"I'll go!" said Beatrice, throwing back her covers and grabbing her wand.

Alice and Lily looked at each other and then jointly scrambled out of bed to huddle behind Beatrice as she opened the door. As soon as the door was open a hand's width the knocking stopped and there was a soft 'flump'. Beatrice poked her head and wand outside, the light from Lily's wand illuminating the landing and top of the stairs. There was no one out there, and the stairs weren't a slide so it couldn't have been an annoying boy. Beatrice was about to pull back into the dorm when she looked down and saw the bunch of thick-stemmed roses. She waved her wand in a hex-detection spell – nothing. Taking a last look around, she picked up the roses and shut the door.

"Ooo," gasped Alice, "Pretty! Who are they from?"

"That's what was knocking on the door?" said Lily in surprise.

Beatrice nodded and smirked a little, "I think we know who they're from. Who else but James Potter, Head Boy and our Lily's boyfriend."

Lily blushed furiously as Alice giggled. She took the flowers from Beatrice and picked out the note, mentally throwing stones at the Boy's Tower for sending flowers in the middle of the night. She flicked open the note and felt herself gaping like a fish, then she handed the flowers back to Beatrice.

"What are you doing? Why are you giving them back to me?" asked the dark haired girl, confused.

"Because they're not for me. They're for you." Lily turned the card round and held her wand so both Alice and Beatrice could read it.

"They're from Sirius," breathed Alice, "Are you seeing him again?"

Beatrice took the note and went to sit on her bed, the other girls joining her. She was shaking slightly. "Yes," she said, "No. Maybe. I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Well, it's complicated, isn't it?" Beatrice said, smelling the red roses and smiling.

"You're not talking about the fact that you've been out before."

"No. I mean the whole Pureblood, Blood Traitor bit."

The girls sank into silence. Beatrice's family were traditional Purebloods, extremely conservative and steadfast in their belief that anyone branded a Blood Traitor should be exiled from society completely. When her father had heard about Sirius Black being disinherited he had laughed and said it was nothing more than he deserved.

Beatrice was just glad that her being sorted into Gryffindor hadn't been as much of an issue as it had been for Sirius. There were a few lions in her extended family, unlike the viper's nest that was the Black family.

"I suppose that having Lucy here won't help matters," noted Alice gloomily.

"She's in Ravenclaw, isn't she?" Lily asked.

"Yeah." Beatrice breathed an annoyed huff. "At least last time all we had to do was hide it from the Slytherins. But this time...if my darling thirteen-year-old sister finds out she'll go running straight to _Daddy_." She sighed. If her father ever found out that she had any kind of relationship with a 'filthy traitor' he'd...he'd...well, she had no idea what he'd do but it would not be pleasant.

"I'm not as brave as Sirius, I can't just walk out of that house. Even if mum is trying to marry me off to Rabastan LeStrange."

"Ouch," winced Lily.

"Yeah."

"We'll just have to hide it," Alice suddenly said brightly, "No, look. You keep any PDA inside our Tower, and we'll all run interference. I'll get Frank onto the 'Puffs, and Remus and Lily know plenty of Ravenclaws who'll help. We can keep this from Slytherins _and_ Lucy. You go out with him. Maybe it'll put a smile onto that face of yours."

"Hey!"

"Alice is right," persuaded Lily, "We can do this."

Beatrice, tears welling in her eyes, pulled Alice and Lily into a big hug. "Thank you, thank you," she said emotionally.

"But mind you tell that idiot off for waking us up," Lily admonished.

"Ohh, believe me, I will!" Beatrice said to the light laughter of the others. Maybe things would turn out alright after all.

XOXOX

The sun was shining on the lake turning it into rippled silver glass and Lily and James sat quietly, watching the surface break now and again as the Giant Squid tried to catch seagulls. Frank and Alice were involved in a laughing snowball fight against Beatrice, Sirius and Remus not far away, but the new couple didn't feel like joining them yet.

After their first date nearly two months ago there had been second, third and fourth dates. Slowly they had both picked their way through the embarrassing slip-ups, the awkward and tentative first kiss, and had settled into a relationship that was argumentative yet stable. Lily had commented to Alice that it was nothing like she'd read or imagined a proper relationship to be like. Alice had just smiled knowingly and told her she still didn't know the half of it.

As they sat there a question crossed Lily's mind. She tried to ignore it, to think of other things but it kept coming back. Eventually she turned to James.

"I know we're not supposed to talk about it, but, well..."

"Go on."

"At...Tintagel. You were...hurt, and then we all passed out, at least I assume we all did, and, well, I know what happened to me." Lily took a breath, "I woke up. At home. My parents were really confused about how I got there; I gave them some fabricated explanation and then I apparated back to Hogwarts. But you...well, you're alive so..."

"You want to know what happened?"

"Yeah," she confirmed.

James watched as a seagull taunted the squid, flying low then veering away. It plunged down, its wings shifted to fly up again, then a tentacle burst out of the water and slapped around its middle. Fluttering and squawking the bird was pulled under the waves; dinner for the squid. It had given him time to think. Dumbledore had made him promise, but Lily deserved to know.

"I was glad when I passed out. I probably would have done from the pain anyway. I woke up at home, same as you. My parents were out, which was lucky. I didn't want to have to explain my torn and bloody shirt to them. The wound, well..." James unbuttoned the top of his shirt and pulled the left side away. Lily gasped at the sight of the raised scar. Cautiously she reached out and traced the line with her fingers.

"It was like that when I woke up. Dumbledore thinks that along with sending us all home, Tintagel healed me. He also said that scars were useful things." James looked down at Lily's hand, still covering the scar, and smiled, "I think I see what he meant."

Lily snatched her hand away and hit him on the arm. "I don't think that's what Professor Dumbledore meant," she said, half-smiling, half-scowling at him.

"You never know with ole Dumble," James said with a wicked grin.

XOXOX


	22. Siriusly Pranked

**Warning: Mushiness follows**

Chapter Three

Sirius grabbed the owl-dropped letter before it landed in his porridge. The envelope was the thick black-rimmed parchment of the magical lawyers Winslow and Pierce, and Sirius frowned as he opened it. The last time the lawyers had written to him it had been to inform him that he no longer had access to the Black Gringotts vault and he would not receive any inheritance in the event of his parents' deaths. He couldn't imagine that his poor excuse for a family had any further restrictions to impose.

"Oh," he said as he read, "Oh no."

"What's wrong?" asked Peter from the other side of the table.

"You know my Uncle Alphard? The one who got blasted off the family tree?" Sirius mimed his mother taking her wand to the family tapestry. "He died in a freak boating accident two weeks ago."

"I'm sorry," said Peter.

"A freak boating accident?" inquired Remus, laying down his book.

"Yeah, according to this he was on his speedboat when a salmon leaped out of the water and hit him in the head...er...both he and the fish died on impact."

"That certainly is a freak boating accident."

Sirius nodded, then gasped, "No way!"

"What?" said Peter, "Don't say a whale came along and ate the boat."

"No, he...what's the date today?" Sirius asked, doing mental arithmetic. Remus told him and a huge grin broke out on his face, "That mean it's here. Now!"

Sirius jumped up, beckoning the others to come with him and ran out of the Great Hall, narrowly avoiding a collision with James and Lily on their way in. He turned in the middle of his run and shouted for them to join him.

"Why?"

"Uncle Alphard's dead!" he yelled.

"And this is good news?" Lily asked, looking at James.

"I don't think so." James shook his head, "Alphard was one of the few Blacks who agreed with Sirius running away from home."

They wandered outside onto the gravel driveway. Sirius was there caressing a fine blue motorbike, running his hands over the leather seat, curved bodywork and shiny attached sidecar. James whooped and jumped down the steps.

"Is this it?" he asked excitedly, "Is this _the_ bike?"

"Yeah. Isn't she lovely? And mine, aww, she's all mine." Sirius conjured a cloth and rubbed at a small smudge, "Uncle Alphie left it to me."

"Along with his holiday home in the Hebrides, and the contents of his Gringotts vault," Remus read from the letter that Sirius had passed to him.

"Really?" Sirius asked, "Cool. Hey, that means I'm rich again."

"Sirius, what about your Uncle? Aren't you sad that he's gone?" Lily asked, eyeing the motorbike with an expression of distrust.

Sirius looked up from the other side of the bike where Peter, James and he were exclaiming over the specifications of the motor and the sleek design. "Of course I am," he said, "He was a decent guy. But he didn't leave me this beautiful, beautiful bike so I'd mourn him, he left me it so I'd enjoy like like he did."

"A fine sentiment, Mr Black," said the Quidditch Professor coming round the corner of the castle from the pitch along with Hagrid. "And you will be needing this."

Sirius took the thin book and stared at it. The Ministry crest adorned the top of the book and the title read 'Rules and Regulations for flying vehicles in the UK, excluding Northern Ireland, Jersey, Guernsey and the Shetland Islands'.

"A Ministry official will be along in a few days to check that you've read it. After that you're free to take to the skies. In the meantime I've suggested to Hagrid that we keep it in his work shed," the Professor smiled a conspiratorial grin, "We wouldn't want to leave it in the Broom Shed where anyone could get to it."

"No, that would not be good," agreed Sirius, "Thanks big guy."

"No problem, she's a fine machine," Hagrid rumbled.

Lily looked on bemused as Hagrid joined the boys in admiring the bike. She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about Sirius having such a dangerous vehicle. On the one hand it was a good mode of transport which suited Sirius' personality, and would allow him to get around without apparating everywhere, but Lily had heard stories of reckless drivers out on the road going too fast and ending up in hospital or worse.

Plus, "Did the Professor say 'skies'?" she asked Remus, who had pulled out a book and was reading in the sunshine.

"Yes. It's a flying motorbike," he confirmed.

"Flying? It flies?"

"Yeah, brilliant isn't it?" said James, coming over and kissing her on the cheek, "And Sirius has promised me the first ride."

"Do you think that's a good idea, James?"

"Don't see why not."

"But what if something goes wrong and you fall off?"

"I'll be in the sidecar, I won't be able to fall off." James took her by the hand and led her round to the sidecar with its sunken seat and small windscreen, "See."

Lily smiled doubtfully, she couldn't really ask him not to ride the thing and it did seem as safe as a _flying motorbike_ could be. Maybe she could talk to Dumbledore, get him to say that Sirius couldn't take it up during school. That would only leave the weekends, and Lily was sure she could distract James somehow.

xoxox

Still half-asleep and toasty warm Lily turned over in bed. She'd been having a wonderful dream and didn't want it to end. Snuggling up against her warm bolster Lily repositioned her head and began to drift off again, a smile on her face. Then her bolster shifted. She moved her arm, patting it still. Dimly she registered the fact that it felt firmer than usual, and warmer too, as if the heat was coming from inside, and...Lily frowned, when had it grown hair?

A little more awake now, Lily poked the bolster and froze when it shifted again and groaned. Her eyes shot open, fully awake, adrenaline racing. Slowly she lifted her head. Lying next to her, hair even more messy than usual, covers halfway down his bare chest, was James Potter.

Lily's face froze in a shocked expression. Then she screamed.

This had the dual effect of making Lily feel better and waking James, who, in turn, started yelling. Both yelling, screaming people jumped out of bed, grabbing a cover, and stared at each other.

James held up a hand and waved it at Lily. "What are you doing in my room?' he yelled.

"I'm not in your room!" Lily cried, completely freaked out.

"Then what am I doing in your room?"

"It's not my room!"

"Then whose room is it?"

Taking calming breaths and double checking that they were covered, James and Lily felt the shock and adrenaline settle. Blurry-eyed, James looked around. From what he could see without his glasses they were probably in one of the spare teacher's rooms; one double bed, bookcase, night stand, a couple of chairs.

Lily pointed to the chairs. "Clothes," she said.

James squinted, it was possible that the dark piles on the chairs were clothes. He waved to them and said, "You first."

Lily nodded and walked over, trailing blanket behind her. Picking up her clothes she held them close to her and stared at James. "Turn around," she ordered, acutely embarrassed.

"Oh. Sorry," he said and turned his back, placing his free hand over his eyes to reassure her.

She dressed in double quick time and retreated back to her side of the bed, making sure she faced away from the remaining pile before she said, "Your turn."

"Thanks." James hurried over. "You know, I didn't imagine this being the way we'd, um..."

"Merlin! You don't think we-" Lily gasped, a new flood of embarrassment running through her.

"No! No. I'm fairly sure we didn't..." James put on his glasses and turned around. "I just meant sleep in the same bed together, not...oh, Merlin." He ran a hand through his hair and touched Lily lightly on the shoulder. They'd been dating for five months but that conversation was not one he felt ready to have. "Shall we get out of here?"

"Yes, let's," Lily agreed.

James tried the handle of the wooden door. "It's locked," he sighed.

"What do you mean 'It's locked'?"

"I mean," He waggled the knob, "It's locked."

"Well use your wand," Lily said in an exasperated tone. She was sure James wasn't normally this dense.

"I don't have it. Use _your _wand." James gestured at the door.

"I don't have mine either."

James rubbed his forehead and ran a hand through his hair again. His shock and embarrassment was swiftly turning to annoyance. "You're telling me we're locked in a bedroom with no wands on Valentine's Day?"

"I'm not _telling_ you anything. That just seems to be the way it is," Lily responded in the same aggrieved tone.

"Really?"

"Really!"

"What are you having a go at me for?"

"I'm not having a go at you, I just woke up really badly this morning!" Lily yelled, throwing up her hands.

"You woke up badly? I got woken up by someone screaming at me!" James threw his anger at Lily and slumped on the bed, taking off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose and stare blankly at the ceiling. It was too early in the morning for this.

Lily stared at him for a moment, then went, sat in a chair, and pouted. _This wasn't how Valentine's Day with James was supposed to go_, she thought sulkily. She sniffed and complained to herself for a while, but finally she looked at the door again, planning on going over and kicking it open. Instead she frowned, leant forward, and said, "James."

"What?" he asked, still tetchy.

She glowered at him for a second. "Look at the door."

"Why?"

"Just look."

James sat up and, pushing his glasses back on, raised an eyebrow at the panelled door. "Huh," he said, "That wasn't there before."

"No."

They both got up and went over to examine the door. Before it had been a plain brown door, nothing strange or exciting about it. Now there were words on it, looking as if they had been grown out of the wood. To be exact there were four lines of bad poetry.

"Your darling wish, To pass through me. Three little words, Will set you free," recited Lily.

"Riddles," moaned James, "I hate riddles."

Together the couple sighed, it looked like breakfast would be a while in coming.

xoxox

Sirius wafted down the corridor in a fantastic mood. He had sent candy hearts to all the female teachers, serenaded several unsuspecting fifth years, and had pink confetti stuck all over his robes. Admittedly this last fabulous point had very little to do with his fashion sense and more to do with the prank that he and Remus had planned and pulled off the Valentine's Day.

Drifts of the tissue paper shapes swirled around the corridors, and there was a gentle rain of them coming from the ceilings of all the staircases, corridors, and common-rooms. Wherever Sirius looked giggling girls delighted over the variety of confetti shapes. The boys though...Sirius almost burst out laughing as he saw a huddled group of guys race down the corridor towards the relative safety of a classroom. Their robes were plastered head to toe with the confetti, and no matter how they picked and plucked it wasn't coming off. Normally Sirius would have objected this barrage of pink that also stuck to his own clothing as he moved, but since he was the one who had caused it he was in a more accepting mood.

"Remus!" he called, coming upon his co-conspirator outside their first class. He spread his arms and executed a twirl, showing off his personal collection of confetti. "I call this success."

"Have you seen the Slytherins?" asked Remus grinning. "The static effect has _somehow_ spread to their skin. Faces covered in confetti!"

Sirius smiled hugely and barked in laughter, "Cool!"

They made their way into the class, Sirius giving a little wave to Beatrice and Alice, both with flowers in their hair. Things had been going well for the secret couple, their friends really rallying round to hide the relationship. They'd had indoor picnics late at night, clandestine meetings carefully patrolled by Head Boy/Girl, or Prefects – of which the Marauders seemed to have a lot on their side.

"Still no Prongs or Lily," noted Remus.

"I know. How hard can it be to figure out the riddle?" said Sirius.

"It's your idiot riddle."

Sirius gaped in mock horror at the insult to his writing talent, then poked Remus repetitively until he was swatted and asked to desist by Remus and Professor Flitwick alike.

xoxox

Kicking the door soundly in exasperation James growled, "Open up blasted door!"

"That's four words," Lily said helpfully from where she was sitting cross-legged on the bed eating grapes. The fruit basket had appeared at precisely nine o'clock, allowing the trapped couple some form of breakfast before they returned to riddle solving.

James kicked the door again and sat down next to Lily. She smiled at him and handed him a grape. He sighed and ate it. This wasn't how he had planned this Valentine's Day to go; he had a wonderfully romantic day all sorted. Then someone, probably the three Marauder-teers, had locked him in a room. James had a feeling it wasn't just to give him and Lily some quality time together. This was exactly the sort of this _he'd _used to do to the Gryffindor Head Boy in third year so that the pranks could go off without prior warning to the teachers.

"You know," Lily commented, handing another grape to James, "That's a really poor poem. Why would you use 'darling' in that first line? It doesn't fit. 'Fondest' or 'dearest' would work better."

"Are you actually commenting on the quality of the poem?" he asked a little incredulous.

"I'm just saying."

James stared at the door, its poem taunting him. He was a seventh year student at Hogwarts, had never got less that an E in anything, and he couldn't figure out a simple riddle. A riddle, which was worse, that had probably been written by his best friend!

The longer he stared, the more he realised Lily was right. 'Darling' didn't fit with the tone of the poem; to him 'darling' was such an old married couples word, and the poem had a young feel. _Marriage, darling..._ the words wandered around his brain as he accepted another grape from Lily. Then, like a bolt of lightning or a pint of water in the face, it came to him.

James jumped up, posed dramatically in front of the door and declared, "I love you!"

The door failed to open.

"I really thought that would work," he said, slouching back to his seat and resting his head on Lily's shoulder.

"Why?" she asked, automatically trying to tame his hair.

He lifted his head and gestured listlessly at the poem. "Darling, marriage, love, three little words..."

"I think you're right. I'm going to kill Sirius," Lily said conversationally.

"If I'm right why isn't the door open and can I help?" James' eyes lit out the prospect of getting Sirius back, ideas galloped through his head – pranks and tricks he'd desperately wanted to play last year, easily adapted and let loose on an unsuspecting Sirius. With Lily's excellent charms skills revenge would be more than great, it would be brilliant.

"For the last two days Sirius has been calling _me_ 'darling'."

Pointing at her and the door, James practically bounced. "_You_ have to say it! Go on!"

Simply, Lily said to the door, "I love you." It came out a little stilted; she was acutely aware that she was saying it to a door. She was also aware that she'd thought about saying it to James, who was sitting right there looking expectant. She really was going to kill Sirius.

"Why didn't it open?" sulked James, sounding like a small child. "Ooo!" he added as the writing on the door shifted and changed. "What does it say?"

"_Veritas unitas caritas. _It says 'Truth, Unity, Love'. And it means," Lily swallowed uncomfortably, feeling her cheeks begin to burn as she figured it out. "We're not supposed to say it to the door. We're supposed to say it to each other."

James bypassed a smile going straight for bursting into laughter. Lily hit him, saying, "It isn't funny."

But James couldn't stop laughing. He had suddenly remembered a night early in fifth year when Peter had received some alcoholic chocolates from an aunt. The four Marauders had stayed up most of the night eating them and telling some of their hopes, dreams and fantasies to each other. Sirius had mentioned flying through the centre of London on his Uncle's motorbike, but James' had been about Lily. He'd fantasised about getting locked in a room with the flame-haired goddess. She'd shout and scream at him but he'd win her over with charm and good looks, and she'd swoon in his arms and confess her deep abiding love for him. The other three had promptly picked his fantasy to pieces until he'd lobbed chocolates at them.

And now, on Valentine's Day two years later, James was locked in a room with his girlfriend and the only way out was if she told him she loved him. Slowly, in between fits of laughter and severe embarrassment, James filled Lily in on the true nature of their situation. At the end of the explanation Lily had sighed, smiled and kissed him lightly. Promptly he captured her in his arms and deepened the kiss, the movement of her lips and warmth of her body against his turning his mind to mush and filling him with adoration and wonder.

As they pulled apart, breathing calmly, James look deep into her green eyes and said, "I love you."

Lily smiled, emotion causing bright tears to prick her eyes, and she replied with all her heart, "I love you."

James stroked her hair and kissed her again, neither one really registering the _click_ of the door unlocking.

xoxox

It was lunchtime and the staff had decided to have the main meal of the day now, and give the students an extra half an hours lunch break. Peter scurried into the hall from his last consultation with the house elves and nodded at Sirius and Remus. They both grinned in acknowledgement and went back to mocking the Slytherins about their confetti covered robes, hands and faces.

In fact all the males in the hall were speckled with hearts, kisses, horseshoes, stars and, for some reason, bicycles. On the whole the confetti was stuck to shoulders, collars and hems, where it had either rained down on the students or had been picked up from the shifting drifts accumulating in the halls. Remus was particularly proud of the little attraction spell he'd found and cast on the replicating confetti – it made the tissue paper gravitate and stick to males of all ages. He'd also tweaked it a bit so that green and silver were particularly attractive.

Which was why, as Severus Snape walked angrily into the hall, Remus burst out laughing. He stood stiffly, searching the Gryffindor table with his eyes, hands away from his sides, an expression of deep loathing on his face. The light pink confetti against the black of his robes contrasted horribly with his sallow skin, and to make it worse it looked as if he'd been caught in a particularly heavy confetti shower. One isolated piece had worked its way away from his covering hair to stick to the side of his large nose, and as the Marauders watched Snape's hand crept up and a knuckle rubbed at it. The feeling was clear: he didn't even want to touch it to get rid of the ridiculous pink heart.

Sirius caught his eye, smiled a wicked smile and waved his wand in an uh-uh gesture as Snape took a furious step towards the Gryffindor table. Scowling he stalked off to the other side of the hall where the rest of the confettied Slytherins sat, all of them angry and miserable.

"This has got to be one of our best pranks ever," commented Sirius with a happy sigh. His smile became a smirk. "Look who's finally joined us."

Hand in hand Lily and James came into the hall and sat down opposite the three Marauders.

"I see you finally escaped," said Remus.

"Escaped?" James gave them a blank look. "Me and Lily have been, uh, otherwise occupied this morning. That's why we're late."

Lily giggled and blushed to the roots of her hair as James tucked her under his arm and whispered in her ear. Sirius and Remus' jaws went slack and Peter looked from one to the other wide-eyed and swallowing repetitively.

"You mean you've...You two have..." Sirius attempted to say what they were all thinking without actually saying it.

"Have what?" James asked, a totally innocent expression on his face.

"I think he means-" Lily said, leaning in to whisper the rest of her sentence in James' ear.

He gave a little 'ah' of understanding and nodded a little sympathetically, "His complete inexperience must be causing some embarrassment. It's alright Sirius, you'll get there one day. When you're ready." James patted Sirius' arm endearingly.

"You know, he's not looking too well," said Lily, examining the floundering pale boy. She leaned over and took Sirius' hand. "Perhaps you ought to go see Madam Pomfrey...darling."

At her last word Sirius snatched his hand from her grasp and waved, pointing between the pair whose sympathetic smiles were turning to smirks. "You weren't...You haven't...You _were_ trapped! Aow! Mean. Mean people. Why would you-"

"Payback," cut in Lily, "You trapped us in a room with a stupid riddle between us and freedom."

"And don't think this is over," added James, looking over his glasses at a miffed Sirius, silently laughing Remus and a slightly confused Peter. "I believe revenge is a dish best served cold."

Remus stopped laughing abruptly, remembering how James' pranks were always better directed and more humiliating for the victim. Turning to Sirius he whacked him on the arm, saying, "Now look what you've done!"

"Me?" yelped Sirius.

"Yes, you and your stupid riddle." Remus held his hands palm out to James and Lily, claiming, "It was all his idea. I had virtually nothing to do with it."

"Virtually?" Lily raised a delicate eyebrow.

"Nothing. _Nothing_ to do with it. In fact I didn't even know it was happening. I thought you'd run away together." He pressed his hands together, he really really didn't want Lily's knowledge of his weaknesses combined with James' wicked brain for pranks. "Please don't hurt me."

"Noo?" James pursed his lips and admitted to Lily, "He is very cute when he's Moony."

"Hmm. We could just make them do a big apology," Lily suggested.

"We could do that!" Sirius said quickly. He'd already faced pranks from one friend in the last year, he didn't feel like having them from another. Especially a friend he lived with when not at school.

"Alright," agreed James, "A big apology. With chocolates and flowers for Lily. And my broom needs polishing, oh, and my books need sorting..."

"We've just become his slaves," Remus said to Sirius quietly.

"I'd noticed."

"What I'd really like now is lunch," said Lily, noting the fullness of the hall and the emptiness of the tureens and platers.

"Yeah. Where's lunch?" asked Sirius, turning to Peter.

The stocky boy focused on Sirius, ignoring the expectant look from Remus and the confused ones from James, Lily and anyone within hearing. He drummed his fingers on the edge of the table and said, "There was a problem with the salmon. They wanted to put tartar sauce with it, but I told them 'It's lemon, mayonnaise or nothing' – you can't ruin a good salmon with _tartar sauce_. They didn't like me commenting on their cooking and tried to throw me out of the kitchen. But it's on its way, just be patient."

"You argued with the house elves about cooking," said Sirius, not quite believing what he was hearing.

"Yes."

As he spoke the food finally arrived and everyone gasped. All the dishes contained some shade of pink or red; there were tomatoes and hams, salmon and salami, clusters of red fruit in bowls, strawberries, raspberries, cherries and red currants. There was a rhubarb crumble and rice dyed with beetroot, blancmanges, jellies and all manner of iced biscuits, cakes and tarts. Most of the sauces were red and there were delicious pink drinks.

James and Lily looked at each other, smiling, reminded of their first date and visit to Madam Puddifoot's. Sirius though was looking a little confused, his eyes flicking between the variety of edibles and Peter.

Finally he said, "Pink food? I know you said you were doing something with the house elves for the banquet, but I thought that meant heart shaped cakes or something not...pink food."

"You have no idea how hard it was to find pink or red vegetables," Peter said sniffley.

"I see we have tomatoes and...what is this?" Sirius pointed to a dish.

"A type of cabbage."

"Well I think it's wonderful," said Lily, cutting across any further remarks from Sirius, "Compliments the day perfectly."

"Ooo, fondant fancies!" James said, grabbing a few before glancing up at the high table and mentioning, "Dumbledore doesn't look very happy."

Up at the teachers table Professor Dumbledore had been, in fact, very happy. The inventiveness of students and house elves never ceased to amaze him, and when it was done for such a worthy cause as love he was all for sampling a different diet. However, he had set his sights on a particularly fine piece of salmon on a plater a few seats away, but as the plate was passed down the table a certain transfiguration professor had snagged it. And then the plater had unceremoniously vanished, probably to be refilled. Which left the Headmaster with salami. He didn't like salami.

"Minerva-" he began, hoping to find a way to obtain his fish.

"If you are about to ask why I took the last piece of salmon when you asked for the plate, don't," she said. "Just remember last banquet when you took the last haggis."

"Ah." Albus did remember. It had been a quite excellent haggis.

"Now enjoy your salami, Albus. Happy Valentine's Day," Minerva added, and with a wave of her wand turned his beard pink.

xoxox


	23. A Wild Ride

**Warning: Character death and severe injury follows. **

**Please remember to review.**

Chapter Four

Severus curled in a ball under the heap of blankets and tried to get warm. Some complete dunce had let the fire go out in the dorm and those confounded house elves hadn't relit it. The dungeons were naturally cold but without the fires they felt freezing. Severus had piled every blanket he could steal or transfigure on top of his thick duvet and he was still cold. He wrapped a cold hand around his even colder nose and tried to will some warmth into it. He hated having a cold nose.

Gradually the warming spells in the real blankets began to have some effect. As he stopped shivering Severus stretched out, his body heat heating a bit of his bed at a time until he was comfortable. Then, relaxing, he began to drift off.

_Morrigan was sitting on a straight backed chair looking out the window at a uniform grey mist. It had been like this for months now; go out in the mist, walk in a straight line and you'd find yourself back, staring at Tintagel Castle again. No way in, no way out. Tintagel's defence against the Elves._

_She turned as the door to her room opened. A lithe man with strawberry blond hair walked in, two soldiers in breastplates and helmets behind him. Morrigan sat up straight and tried to look imperious._

"_Lady," the man said with a trace of an accent, "You have been in here alone for three days, do you have anything to tell us?"_

"_As I told you before you sequestered me, I don't know anything about that." She gestured out the window._

"_Lady. We do not think you are telling us the truth. So..." Mongan snapped his fingers and the two soldiers came forward. As they took hold of Morrigan's arms and hauled her from her seat she protested loudly. "So sorry, Lady. But you will tell us the truth soon. Yes?" He paused. "Take her down to the dungeons."_

_The soldiers forced Morrigan out of the room past the elegant man who sniffed and added softy, "Such a shame. Such a pretty lady."_

"_You can't do this!" Morrigan yelled, fighting the grip of the elves, "This is my castle! You can't do this!"_

Severus shifted uncomfortably, his eyes flickering open for a moment before he turned over and fell back into sleep.

"_Morrigan Le Fay. We treated you with kindness, with respect. You opened the doors for us. Yet you have told us nothing about the anti-magic barrier. You have been down here for a week, with the cold and the damp and the rats. And still you tell us nothing." King Lleu bent down to where Morrigan was strapped into a wooden chair. "You have forced my hand."_

_Lleu stood up and sighed, then he nodded to his brother and walked away, his trio of bodyguards falling in behind him. Mongan dismissed the other soldiers in the room and pulled a thin knife out of his belt. He went over to Morrigan and laid its edge on her cheek. Morrigan leant her head away as much as possible, fear warring with determination in her eyes._

"_Tell us how to get out of the castle, Lady," he said._

"_I don't know how to," Morrigan replied, then whimpered as Mongan's knife cut into her cheek._

"_Try again, pretty lady."_

Severus woke, sitting bolt upright, gasping for air. The room was still pitch black, but the images from his dream swam before his eyes. He focused on his breathing, calming himself down. The dream had seemed so real. But it couldn't be. It was just a dream, he rationalised, a random plot-line constructed from leftover images from his day. A way of processing information.

Except it didn't seem like that. It had felt so real; the cold, the tension, Morrigan's fear and pain as the knife drew blood. Severus lay back, staring up into the darkness. What if it wasn't a dream? What if it was real?

xoxox

James sat at the desk by the window in his dormitory and hummed happily. Apparently he really would do anything for Lily, because here he was doing his homework days before it was due. Behind him Remus, Beatrice, Lily and Sirius were playing a game of revision ball.

The four sat one on each bed throwing a ball – in this case Sirius' ball from when he was a mutt – between them. Whoever had the ball named a spell, like 'cheering charm' or 'animal into goblet', then they threw the ball to someone else and they had to say the words of the spell, '_sereverto_'. If they got it right they got to name the next spell, but if they got it wrong they were laughed at and had to pass the ball on.

Once or twice James had joined in, calling out a question from his homework and getting a variety of answers in return. Now onto the transfiguration essay he didn't need any help; this was his strongest subject. Plus he was busy scribbling Quidditch moves on a spare bit of parchment. His final match was in two weeks time and James was determined that the whole team would pull out all the stops to make it legendary.

"Strongest shielding charm," called Beatrice, throwing the ball neatly to bounce off the top of Sirius' head.

"_Protego Maximus_," said Sirius lazily giving her a smiling frown, "Desk into pig."

Lily caught the ball and pulled a funny face at it. "Why do we need to know how to turn a desk into a pig?"

"You don't know the answer," Beatrice sang.

"I do know it. It's...I do know it," claimed Lily.

"_Mensa insus_," said James, leaning his chair back onto two legs and stretching.

"Hey!" Lily protested. She could have got that, given time. Bouncing the ball in her hand she lobbed it at James, hoping to knock him out of his chair. But James, with his uncanny Chaser reflexes and eyes in the back of his head, shot out a hand a caught it mere inches away from his right ear.

Throwing it up in the air he batted it backwards over his head. As it sailed through the centre of the room Sirius yelled, "Mine!" and dived for it.

He rolled into the corner of the room folded around his ball and barking with laughter. Resisting the urge to turn into his dog form so he could have a tail to wag, Sirius jumped up, arms raised in celebration. Beatrice clapped and cheered sarcastically, "Aren't you clever, catching a ball?"

"I am ignoring your sarcasm," he said, running over to pepper her with wet kisses.

"Ugh! Geroff!" Beatrice screamed with laughter, not trying very hard to dislodge him.

Lily wandered over to James and poked him hard in the shoulder. "I would have got that, y'know. Aren't you supposed to be doing your homework?"

"My homework is boring and easy and about the Animagus transformation."

"And you know all about that," Lily said rolling her eyes.

"I do...not," James added quickly, "I have read a lot about it." He picked up his quill and tickled Lily's nose with it, trying to distract her from his verbal slip.

"Pfft." She batted the quill away and was about to say something further when there was a tap at the window.

Remus looked up from where he was trying to rid himself of numerous inkblots on his fingers and questioned, "Post?"

"My post," said James, recognising his parent's owl as he popped open the window. He quickly tore open the letter and began to read.

_Jimmy, _

_There's been an attack in Snowbourne. The Death Eaters were targeting the Muggleborn families. Maria, your mother was visiting the Bowmans. She got caught up in the fighting. By the time we got there it was too late. I'm sorry. She's dead._

_I haven't organised _(This was crossed out) _I'm out in the field. We're going to catch these guys. Uncle Charles is sorting everything. _

_Lots of love,_

_Dad._

James felt his hands shake slightly as he stared uncomprehendingly at the words on the page. She couldn't be, it was his father in the dangerous job - she was just - it couldn't be. All his senses dimmed for a few moments as his brain attempted to understand the information. Distantly James heard the others asking questions and didn't resist as the letter was taken out of his hands.

Then, as he heard the grief-stricken exclamation from Sirius, James felt great steel shutters come down in his mind, cutting him off from all the emotion. He couldn't deal with this right now, he had more important things to do. He had to complete his homework, he couldn't be late.

"I'm so sorry James," Lily said, kneeling down beside his chair.

James nodded and gave her a brief smile, pulling a fresh piece of parchment towards him and checking the nib of his quill. It had bent a little out of shape. James picked up him wand and muttered the well-worn spell to recut the nib. Satisfied he dipped it in the ink and, checking his notes, began to write.

"James..." Sirius came over, a shocked expression on his face as he held the letter tightly. He floundered, trying to find something to say, a way to express the whirlwind of emotions the owl had brought.

Looking briefly up at him James said, "I must do my homework now."

"Homework?" Sirius questioned, "Your mum...is, is dead, and you've got to do your homework?"

"Yes. It is very important."

"Important?" Sirius almost exploded.

"Please leave Sirius, I wish to concentrate," James said, mentally pushing away from dealing with his mother's death.

"James-" Sirius couldn't believe this, a rush of anger surging through him.

"Leave," James said curtly, his own emotions boiling.

Sirius took his shoulder, determined to talk about his. His mother was dead, that was way more important that some homework. James shrugged off his hand, standing swiftly, ordering them all, "Get out," no one moved. He pointed to the door, and, ignoring the shocked looks, yelled, "GET OUT!"

Everyone headed for the door, the sight of a furious James, wand in hand, backlit by the window, adding speed to their heels. Marching over, James slammed the door behind them and took a deep cleansing breath.

A part of him knew he was acting crazy, that he needed to look at the scary issue he'd placed behind shutters in his mind, but he couldn't. There was no way he could deal with that right now. So, instinctively and protectively, his mind shut it all away – everything, emotions, facts. His mind would protect him by putting up a barrier, and would not let anyone or anything breach it till he was ready. This left him able to continue with day to day activities. Which right now meant his homework.

Walking back over to the desk by the window, James blotted the ink spot his dropped quill had caused and began his essay again.

_'The Animagus transformation is historically related to the were-transformation that...'_

xoxox

The half-moon rose over Hogwarts and everyone slept. At least everyone should have been sleeping. Outside a stone shed there was movement in the moonlight.

"Ready?" asked Sirius as he climbed into the sidecar.

James nodded stiffly and turned the key. The engine roared into life, a slight twist of the handle and it revved. All brakes off they sped away from Hagrid's workshop, across the bumpy lawn and into the forbidden forest.

Headlights picked out the trees as the boys accelerated into darkness, James keeping a tight grip as he worked the bike up to flying speed. In the sidecar Sirius grinned wildly, urging him on. Then, eyes flicking to the dials for an instant, James hit a switch and pulled up. The bike lifted from the ground, the note of the engine shifting, and they tore through the branches and leaves. Sirius ducked down further behind the wind-shield, protecting his eyes from stray twigs, James' glasses serving the same purpose.

With a splintering crash the bike escaped the forest, bursting into the night sky. Sirius whooped with glee. James hauled on the handlebars, executing a tight circle and shooting back towards the castle.

Through the turrets and towers they weaved, the engine's roar echoing back and forth, an ear-splitting din that must surely wake everyone within. Just as Sirius began to look for chastising teachers they swerved around Ravenclaw tower and out beyond the castle. Down the bike went, following the line of the river that drained into the loch, James almost landing it on the water, sending spray over the pair.

Shaking his head and laughing his great barking laugh, Sirius lifted his arms to feel the wind through his fingers as the bike raced out of the glen and over the moors. The headlights picked out the blush of heather and the pitch black feathers of a grouse startled from cover. James accelerated again, pouring all his fraught emotions into the roar of the engine, allowing the wind to whip away all thought.

The bike belted over the heads of running deer. The herd stretched thin over the wild grass, a magnificent stag at their head. His bellowing was lost as James angled the machine up; higher and higher they went. The power beneath him urged him on and he pressed for more speed before moving steeper and into the beginning of a loop. Sirius paled slightly, if this worked it would be amazing, but if it didn't... His fingers clenched around the rim of the sidecar.

As he reached the height of the loop, the world reversed, sky below and earth above, and James felt his grip begin to slide. He tightened his knees around the body of the machine but it was too late, gravity had taken a hold. James plunged down towards the rocky moors, a million emotions playing in his chest.

Sirius yelled his name as the tumbling bike began to follow James' descent, then realised that if he didn't save himself he had no chance of saving his plummeting friend. Drawing his knees up he crouched on the seat of the sidecar, wind whistling round him, trying to judge the distance he had to cover. Then with a wild cry he leapt, hands stretched out to catch the handlebars, arse hitting the bike seat with a painful thump. He gunned the faltering engine, gravity sorting itself out as the bike's descent levelled, then Sirius angled it down and pulled out his wand.

James was closing fast on the ground now, his spread-eagled flight and scream doing nothing to slow his fall. Sirius threw cushioning and levitation charms at James and the ground below, but with half his concentration on controlling the bike many went astray. Hurtling down, Sirius prised all the speed he could out of the bike, but is wasn't enough. James hit the ground with a thump and there was a reverberating _crack!_ like a gunshot only more organic, which Sirius felt throughout his body in a great shudder.

Landing hurriedly Sirius raced over to the prone and screaming James, only to stop shocked and slightly queasy. James' right leg was lying at such a wrong angle it was unbelievable; his thigh bone broken right through.

Sirius dropped to the ground by his side, casting the one numbing spell he knew over and over again until James' cries dimmed to whimpers. Grabbing his hand Sirius stuttered, "I'm going to have to straighten it."

James squeezed his hand tightly, nodding as tears streamed down his face. Bleeding to death at Tintagel had left him numb and woozy, the pain a distant thing. This was burning hot agony, all his nerves screaming at him even through the layers of spells. As Sirius lay hands on his leg he screamed, the pain unbearable. Then it eased back down to mere agony and James felt his brain try to shut down against the constant pain. Fighting to keep himself awake he heard the whisper of a stretcher spell and the roar of the bike's engine. The breeze against his skin cooled his burning temperature, and James couldn't fight the soothing blackness anymore.

xoxox

He woke to the sound of argument and the quiet ministrations of Madam Pomfrey. As soon as she saw he was awake she lifted his head to help him swallow various potions, one of which must have been a painkiller from the immediate effect it had. At the end of his hospital-white bed the arguers gestured and pointed, their well-known blurry shapes easily identified as Sirius and Lily.

Madam Pomfrey told him to lie still and turned her most imposing voice on the pair, "Either be quiet or take your argument elsewhere, my patients need rest and silence."

They both quickly apologised to her and Lily dragged Sirius off into the far corner of the Infirmary, far from anyone awake or asleep. Pomfrey gave James another potion and added another layer of healing spells to his leg.

"You're a very lucky boy, James," she said.

"I am?" he questioned weakly, not feeling at all lucky.

"Your leg has two fractures at the same place in the bone, one on either side. Any more force and it would have snapped clean through."

James fought through the fuzziness of potions and remembered pain to that moment on the hillside. "I thought it had broken," he muttered. Surely that memory of Sirius straightening his leg was real? Why would he have needed to do that if it wasn't broken?

"Just severe fractures," the matron said brightly, "You'll need to lie still for six to eight hours, but after that you'll be as good as new."

James relaxed into the comfort of the blankets, confused but able to think. There had to be a solution, all he had to do was figure it out.

Over in the corner Lily let go of Sirius' arm and turned on him, "I _know_ you were on that blasted bike! What were you thinking? He needs quiet and space to mourn his loss, not to go haring round the mountains!"

"Look, Lily, if James wants to go on a madcap ride then that's what we'll do. If he want to go swimming with the giant squid then _that's_ what we'll do. Anything to get him out from behind that emotionless mask he's got on." He held up a hand, stopping her from interrupting. "_I've_ cried, _I've_ railed at and talked to Remus and McGonagall, and she wasn't even my mother! If this is what it takes to break him out, so be it. Because the funeral is in two days and I can't let his father see him like this. It would break his heart to see his only son so uncaring at his mother's funeral." Sirius paused to wipe away the moisture forming at the corner of his eyes, and felt Lily's comforting hand on his arm. "One day you might be closer to James than I am, but right now I know him better than anyone and this lack of emotion, valid as it might be, just isn't him."

Lily sighed, bit her lip and looked over at James who appeared to be confused about something. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise. You were an idiot to take him out on that things but..." She met Sirius' eyes. "What can I do to help?"

Sirius pulled her into a hug, both to reassure her and because he needed one too. "Just be there for him," he said.

Feeling a lot more agreeable they went back over to James' bedside. Lily sat down next to him and started grilling Madam Pomfrey on what spells and potions she'd used. Sirius took hold of James' arm lightly and smiled down at the pale boy.

"You get some sleep," he said, "I've got to go have an argument with McGonagall about my bike."

James nodded distantly, the last potion Pomfrey had given him must have been a sleeping draught because right now Sirius' suggestion seemed like the best idea in the world.

xoxox

When James woke again there was a faint dawn light coming in through the curtain, balancing the flicker of candlelight by his side. He felt different, as if a dam inside had burst and all the feelings he'd been holding back since he read that fateful letter flooded forth. Tears pricked his eyes as memories of his mother surfaces: picking him up when he'd fallen, baking biscuits which he'd stolen, being there whenever he'd needed a laugh. He couldn't make sense of the huge absence, of the fact that none of that would be again.

Beside him Lily turned the page of her book, and he reached out saying her name.

"I'm here," she responded quietly, closing her book.

"I miss my mum," he said simply, the emotions clogging his throat, "I really miss her."

Lily came and sat on the side of his bed as he sat up. Pulling him into a hug she comforted him as the tears streamed down his face and he clutch at her robes in emotional catharsis. Silently Lily realised Sirius had been right, the mask had broken and now James could mourn and start to move forwards.

xoxox

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	24. The Last Day

**Chapter Five**

It was the very last day at Hogwarts. NEWTS had been taken, trunks were packed and the sun was shining. Lily sighed as a group of third years went past; they had another four years to go, they could leave on the train knowing they'd be back in a few months. Not that they appreciated that fact; Lily certainly hadn't, and now that she was leaving, unlikely to ever return, she wished she had.

"You alright?" asked James, plonking himself down next to her, out of breath. He and Sirius had been having a last race around the castle, and James had once again proved that though the motorbike went faster, his broom had a better turning circle.

"I'm just going to miss this place," Lily said.

"I know what you mean. It's been like a second home for seven years. But, you know what Dumbledore would say, we're starting the next part of our adventure!" James spread his arms wide taking in their entire future. Then he put his head on Lily's shoulder and said, "Plus you get to move in with me."

"It was either move in with you and Remus or my sister. And I'm not doing that!"

"Ahh, you're doing it cause you love me."

Lily blushed and laughed happily as James started kissing his way up her arm, wiggling his eyebrows and giving her what were supposed to be come-hither looks as he went. She swatted him on the head and grabbed his chin to give him a firm kiss. He smiled and she wrinkled her nose at him.

Then Lily looked away over towards the lake and spotted a lonely black figure that drove away her laughing mood. Pensive, she bit her lip. She had to say goodbye to him, even if they weren't friends anymore. She owed him that much. Turning back to James she opened her mouth to say something, but he was one step ahead of her, looking between her and Snape. He smiled a little tightly and nodded.

"Go," he said softly in understanding.

"Thank you." Lily kissed him again and went over to the person who had first told her she was a witch.

Severus was trying not to think about going home. His mother was very ill and had written numerous times in the last few weeks to try to get him to come. Although he felt terrible about leaving her in the sole company of his father he knew he couldn't stay there any longer than he absolutely had to. His new job came with a small terraced house near to the production site, and he had been waiting to escape his father's rule for so long. He was a fully qualified wizard now, legally an adult in both Magical and Muggle words. Nothing could make him stay.

Vaguely he noticed Lily coming towards him, and he broke out of his morose thoughts to put on his now usual expressionless mask.

"Hello," he said as she stopped a few feet away.

"Hello," she replied, "I came to say goodbye and good luck."

"Thank you. The same to you."

"Where are you going, after..." Lily looked back at the castle.

"I have a job at Holtz and Schwartz."

"The Potions People? That's brilliant." She smiled, glad that he'd be putting his skill to good use. "Congratulations."

Severus inclined his head and asked politely, "And you?"

"I'm going to work for Ollivander, just as an assistant but I'll be learning about wand lore so it'll be great." Lily's enthusiasm died a little in the emotionless void between them.

"I'm sure you will enjoy it."

"I-" Lily put her hand out, wanting to say something that would recapture the mutual curiosity and excitement of their early friendship. But Severus ignored it, deliberately turning his head away until her hand fell.

"Goodbye Lily," he said without a trace of feeling.

Unable to get through his tightly woven barrier Lily conceded that the friend she'd had was finally, and irrevocably, lost. She smiled a thin tight smile and said around the lump in her throat, "Goodbye Severus."

Severus didn't watch as she walked away, a brief closing of his eyes the only concession to the emotion welling inside. Then he straightened and walked away towards the carriages and a new life.

Back by James' side Lily absorbed the excited and turbulent emotions of the gathered group. Frank was regaling them with the story of the time he'd caught Sirius in the middle of planting a prank on the Hufflepuffs, and Remus was making dry comments about what Sirius was supposed to have been doing. The star of the tale was absent, though the roar of his bike was growing closer. As Frank delivered the punchline Sirius landed and strode into the centre of the group.

"I've got it!"

"Got what?" asked Peter.

"Dumbledore's hat!" He placed said hat on the ground reverentially. "Tada!"

"Why?"

"It's on the list," Sirius said, sitting down next to Beatrice and pulling out a long piece of parchment.

"What list?" asked Alice.

"It's the list of all the Rule of Hogwarts. He's trying to break them all before we leave," explained James.

"And I've only got one left," he said, crossing off 'steal Headmaster's hat' with a flourish.

"How is that possible?" asked Lily, "Aren't there ones on there like...Don't have wizard's duel-"

"Done that."

"- Or break into Greenhouse three."

"That too. I assure you Lily," Sirius said to forestall any further recitations, "I have, sorry, we – the Marauders – have broken all but one of the rules on this list. And can I say – why didn't we steal that hat before?"

"Too easy," said Remus. He laughed a little at the shocked looks from the non-Marauders. "One simple _Accio hat_ and-"

Everyone laughed as Dumbledore's hat flew at him from the middle of the circle. When he'd recovered from the attack of the hat, Remus raised an eyebrow. "See."

"What have you got left?" Beatrice asked, leaning into Sirius – ostensibly to see the list better.

Sirius examined the list, after giving Beatrice a slow I-know-what-you're-doing-and-quite-like-it smile. "That weird one about not carrying ice cream in your pockets. I've love to know the story behind it."

"Are you sure it's ice cream not _an Ice Cream Cone_?" Remus said, pulling the list out of his hand.

"I'm going to go with a cone anyway. Otherwise I'll just end up with damp pockets," Sirius said, getting up and pulling a picnic hamper out of the sidecar.

"And you wouldn't want damp pockets," said Beatrice mock-seriously.

"Indeed not." Sirius stood up, pushing mint chocolate cones into each pocket and grabbed the hat off Remus. "Right. I'm off to show McGonagall my new acquisitions."

He strode off towards the steps of the castle where a couple of teachers were enjoying the sunshine. There was a pause amongst the group as everyone watched him go. Then Frank jumped up and said, "I've got to see this."

"We've all got to see this," agreed Alice.

Sirius walked up to Professor McGonagall, stolen hat perched jauntily on his head, and bowed low. McGonagall shook her head in amusement and shared a disbelieving look with Pomona Sprout beside her. Sirius straightened up and, with a smug expression, announced, "Professor McGonagall I have come to inform you that I have now broken every rule at Hogwarts."

Minerva raised an eyebrow. Sirius had been trouble throughout his seven years and she'd be glad to see the back of his hair-raising antics, but surely he hadn't broken _every_ rule.

"Here is the Headmaster's hat. If you would kindly return it. Thank you. Here is a picture of me dive bombing into the lake." Sirius handed the picture to Professor Sprout with a wink. "And I have Ice Cream Cones in my pockets!"

Minerva looked round the hat at the two cones poking out of Sirius' pockets and raised her other slim eyebrow. Then she frowned lightly, before a small Dumbledore-ish twinkle came into her eye. Placing the hat on the ground she folded her hands neatly in her lap and said, "I believe the rule is that you are not allowed to carry ice cream in your pockets on _Sunday_."

"I've written that rule out forty-five, no, forty-four times and it never said anything about Sunday. Sundaes maybe?" Sirius said hopefully.

"Actually..." James stepped forward from the watching group and cleared his throat, "Now that I think about it, it did say Sunday. Sorry, Sirius."

"And it's Saturday," Minerva said, restraining her smile slightly as Sirius' face fell.

The rule-breaking boy pulled the cones out of his pockets and stared despondently at them, wondering what on earth he was supposed to do now. Then an idea crossed his mind, it wasn't as good as breaking all the rule of Hogwarts but it'd do, and a smile broke out across his face once more. Bowing again he handed an icecream each to the lovely Professors.

"Enjoy," he said simply but with a wicked grin. Then, just before he reached his friends a well of emotion caught him and he darted back and dared to lean in and peck McGonagall on the cheek. "Thanks for the last seven years," he whispered.

Minerva watched the group go, a little flabbergasted and a touch envious for a moment. That group of Gryffindor boys had the closest bonds and their tightest friendship she'd seen in a long time. Then she looked down at the icecream and frowned.

"Problem Minerva?" Pomona Sprout asked, eating hers wholeheartedly.

"Sirius Black just handed me an ice cream and said 'thank you'. I'm just waiting for this to explode or turn into a chicken."

"I think," said Pomona thoughtfully, "his last prank is to not play a prank. Because this is _good_ icecream."

xoxox

**The next chapter will be up shortly. **

**How shortly depends on your reviews.**

**LB**


	25. Order Auror

_I have changed Chapter One of Pureblood Dreams, along with making alterations to chapters 11, 15, 17 and 18. You may wish to re-read them at some point. Many Thanks. LB_

**Chapter Six**

The ten prospective Aurors clapped politely as Bartemius Crouch, Head of Dept., stepped down from the podium and left the room. Sirius rolled his eyes, exciting that speech had not been. Moody, who had been standing in the corner of the room with his arms folded, strode forward and stopped in front of the lectern.

"Now it's my turn," he growled, "I am Alastor Moody, you will address me as 'sir'. I am not going to teach you how to 'detect and dispose of threats to our community'. I am going to teach you how not to get killed. There are two words you need to remember at all times: CONSTANT VIGILENCE. Follow me."

They marched down a corridor and into a classroom. Its walls were a patchwork of greens and browns, and there were a few cupboards and folding chairs with attached desks off to one side. Moody went to the front of the group and eyeballed the new recruits. Young and inexperienced, they'd soon learn. The Auror programme usually took two years to complete, but with the war against the Dark Lord and his minions going slowly the course had been pared down to its essentials. These guys and gals would be on the front line in eight months. Not enough time to train a monkey, let alone overconfident teenagers.

"In this room there are wizards. They are not using invisibility cloaks or spells to hide." He paused, watching their reactions. Most looked surprised and examined the walls a little closer, several put their hands in their pockets – possibly checking their wands – but that was all. Moody shook his head; he hated new recruits.

"I just told you to remember two words. Constant. Vigilance. Yet you all walked into an unknown room, following a stranger, and were told there were wizards in it. And not one of you had your WANDS OUT!"

There was a flurry of movement as the students pulled out their wands. Moody gave them a heartbeat longer, and then said, "What are you waiting for? An invitation? Find those wizards!"

They all spread out in a hurry, poking their wands at anything and everything. Basic detection spells flew around the room and everyone moved as urgently and energetically as possible. Almost everyone that was. Moody looked the young man standing calmly in the centre of the room up and down. He caught the name on the name-tag and asked, "Why are you just standing there, Longbottom? Do you _know_ where these wizards are without looking?"

"Yes sir," replied Frank confidently.

"Where?"

"Well I'm one of them sir, and you're another. And there are nine more," Frank said as he waved his hand at the other students, "not using invisibility cloaks or spells of any kind."

Everyone stopped moving and an expectant hush fell over the room. James was amazed at Frank's audacious move. He was practically saying that Moody's order to search for the wizards was a fraud. There was a tense moment as Moody eyeballed the young man. Then he gave a short sharp laugh.

"Correct. What Longbottom here has used are his powers of observation and his ability to listen carefully. I did not say there were any _extra_ wizards in the room." Moody waved his wand at the folded chairs and they set themselves up across the space. He then summoned the chalk and started writing on the blackboard. "The first lesson in concealment is about the most underused method of all: Standing in Plain Sight."

XoXoX

The cage door closed behind him with a clang.

He tried not to think of it as a cage, but what else could he call it? Steel bars two inches thick concreted into the ground and ceiling in four inch intervals. One barred door and an impressive lock. It was a cage.

Remus sighed and began divesting himself of most of his clothing. Chucking it through the bars, he sat cross-legged on the cold bare floor and looked up at the tiny window near the ceiling. Soon the moon would shine its reflected light through the small gap and he would transform.

To pass the time, Remus started running over some household calculations in his head again. He knew how much he paid in rent, but since he gave it to James every month he hadn't realised the actual cost of the property. Yesterday he'd, unusually, been the first home and so had picked up the post. The bills had been perfectly clear – James had lied to him. Remus was paying less than his share. He wasn't entirely sure how to feel about it, and even less certain what to do about the matter.

A stirring in his bones pushed the decision aside. The moon was rising and it was time to change. Moving from his cross-legged position (Wolves can't sit cross-legged) Remus gritted his teeth against the inevitable pain.

Bones stretched, muscles lengthened, hair rippled down arms and legs. Nails elongated and sharpened, turning thick and yellow. In the now-canine mouth the eye-teeth became prominent, promising fierce injury to those who crossed their owner.

Remus sagged to the floor panting. That never got any easier. As the pain eased and the sweat dried he checked himself over, making sure there was no real damage. In the midst of the transformation there was no control and small scratches were common as he writhed. _Let's see,_ he thought, _A long one on my back left leg, at least it's not deep. And the usual few on my muzzle; why does that always happen?_

Assessment done he sat back on his haunches and considered his mind. For the last...almost two years, his control, his self had been growing in dominance when he was transformed. In the last couple of moons though a new shift seemed to have occurred. No longer was the wolf a completely separate entity that usurped his human self, a being of pure instinct and ferocious bloodlust. Now it was a part of him, just as much as his love of books. Remus knew that when he was human he was the same person he had always been, albeit with a shorter temper and a tad more impulsive. Oh and a preference for rare rather than well-done meat. As a wolf he had gained more. He was able to think, to rationalise, to consider his options. He could recognise his friends, and was no longer a danger to anyone.

In all his reading on his condition Remus had never come across the slightest hint that this could ever happen. The other werewolves he'd half mentioned it too hadn't known anything either, busy accepting or struggling their own way through the traumatic experience. Yet he was no longer a mindless monster every full moon, and there had to be an explanation. He had looked, searched, and found nothing. Remus did suspect it had something to do with what had happened at Tintagel, but finding information on the magic of that place was like taking a photograph of a pink elephant.

In the end the cause didn't really matter; if it meant he could curl up here, or run outside knowing he was tame every full moon, Remus would accept it with pleasure.

A sound from upstairs drew his interest away from his condition and the wolf twitched his ears to hear better. The front door slammed and footsteps pounded over his head on the ground floor. His ears tracked the light but firm tread from hallway to kitchen. Something was dropped heavily on the kitchen table and the sound of doors banging left Remus in no doubt; it was Lily and she was not in a good mood. Ever since James had started his Auror training a couple of months ago he'd been out at all hours and extremely tired when he got back. It was putting a strain on their relationship, though Lily had yet to admit it to James. She was still hiding her worry from everyone.

Remus winced as the young woman lost her temper and threw a plate across the room to shatter against the wall. Several more followed. Remus lay down and put his paws over his nose in a sign of resignation. It was times like these he was glad he was a werewolf.

XoXoX

"My head hurts," complained Sirius.

"I can't stop twitching. I hate days with Moody, I can never stop twitching," said James, trying to stop his leg from bouncing as he sat opposite Sirius.

"At least he didn't shout in your ear."

"It's his habit of popping up behind you and saying 'Constant Vigilance'. It puts me on edge."

"Well you boys look like you had a fantastic day," said Lily, coming into the living room and slumping onto the sofa next to James. He put his arm around her and tried even harder not to jump at small noises.

"And what did _you_ do today?" asked Sirius.

"I got very messy."

"Messy? How could you get messy working at Ollivanders? Dusty I could see."

"We took a shipment of a dozen dragon hearts this morning. And I spent the entire day pulling out the heartstrings and bottling them. I washed my hair three times and I still feel like I'm covered in blood." Lily ran her fingers through her hair and shuddered. "Dragon's blood is not a good shampoo."

"Which by a circuitous route reminds me... Were you able to pick up my order from Madam Malkin's?" Sirius asked, his voice sounding a little odd as he compensated against the ringing in his ears.

"Yes. It's sitting on the kitchen table."

Sirius stood up and stretched until his joints creaked and a large yawn made his ears pop. As he left the room Lily called after him, asking if he was staying for dinner. Waiting for him to return James followed his friend's example and stretched, then he tried to relax all his crazy muscles. He buried his nose in Lily's hair and breathed in; this was the reason he was going through the crammed Auror training, it was the reason why in three months he would fight for real.

"I won't have dinner, thanks," said Sirius, coming back into the room with a package under his arm. "I'm meeting Beatrice."

"How is she?" asked Lily. She hadn't spoken to Beatrice in ages, and had been so busy that the thought of writing kept being pushed out of her head.

"She's meeting with LeStrange next week. He'll be proposing," Sirius said sourly.

Lily gave a little 'oh' and put a hand to her mouth, she'd never thought Beatrice's family would actually push her into the arranged marriage.

"She'll say no," James said with a small question in his tone.

"I don't know." Sirius sighed and balanced the package on the back of the chair. "If she says no she'll be disinherited and branded a Traitor. And she doesn't even have the few options I had. Had I not known Prongs here I could have gone to Cousin Andromeda's; she married a Muggle."

"But surely she could stay with you. You've got the funds and the place now, thanks to Uncle Alphard."

"I suggested it. She said: 'And do what?'. She wouldn't be able to get any kind of magical work around Purebloods at the moment. I only got into the Academy because of your dad." Sirius pointed at James. "I don't know. We'll figure something out. Thanks for this, Lily." He waved the package and said his goodbyes.

As the roar of Sirius' motorbike faded away into the clouds there came a tapping at the window. James half-groaned and prepared to drag his still twitching muscles out of his seat. A hand on his chest stopped him in his tracks and pushed him back down.

"I'll get it," Lily said tiredly, getting up and opening the window. The post owl swooped in, dropped its letter neatly into Lily's hand and flew back out into the night.

"It's from Professor Dumbledore."

"Really? What does he want?"

"He's inviting us to a 'meeting of like minds' in the upstairs room in the Hogshead on Sunday at 2pm. He's mentioned that he's invited some of our friends: Alice, Sirius..."

James waved his hand, indicating that he wanted to read the letter. His eyebrows raised as he saw that all the 'mentions' were part of the group they'd hung out with back at school. And reading between the lines if they agreed to something or other then he'd be in familiar company. Certainly it seemed to indicate that Moody might be involved. Was Dumbledore putting together some group to combat the darkness?

"I think we should go," said Lily, rubbing behind her ear.

"I agree. I also think it's time for food. I'm starving." James gave a puppy-dog look to Lily, "What's for dinner?"

"Dragon's Blood!" exclaimed Lily, holding out her fingers, "Dragon's Blood everywhere!" She walked out of the room and James heard running water.

"I don't think I want Dragon's Blood for dinner," he said to himself.

XoXoX

Albus Dumbledore sat at the head of a long table and smiled, welcomed and offered tea to the group of young men and women trickling through the door. All were nineteen or twenty years old and chosen for their loyalty, bravery and dedication. As the lithe form of Remus Lupin came in, looked around and closed the door, Albus got to his feet.

"Thank you all for coming. Would anyone like some more tea before we begin?" He smiled at the good-natured refusals and sat down. "I would like to speak to you about an organisation called the Order of the Phoenix. As you are aware we are currently in the midst of a war with Voldemort." Albus noted who flinched, and importantly who didn't, at the name. "And although the Ministry's coverage and defence has prevented a number of major disasters they have other priorities to consider."

"Such as hiding it from the Muggles," commented Sirius.

Albus nodded, "The Order of the Phoenix is a group of like-minded individuals who feel that more can be done. We have Aurors, researchers and specialists among our numbers. Together the Order provides a network across the majority of Wizarding Britain, ready to respond to the more personalised attacks by the Death Eaters. We also seek out ways to end the war." Albus paused and took in the rapt and curious faces of the half-dozen seated round the table. "I would like to invite you to join the Order of the Phoenix."

There was a rustling and shifting as people took in the information and invite, exchanging looks with each other. Frank Longbottom leaned forward from where he was sat between Alice and James.

"Does the Ministry know about this 'Order'?" he asked.

"No," replied Albus, a twinkle in his eye. "Though many Order members do work at the Ministry."

"Professor-" Lily began.

"Albus, please. You are no longer my students," the Headmaster of Hogwarts said with a smile.

"Alright, A-Albus. Why us? I mean me, Remus and Peter." Lily gestured around the table. "We have no training in defence or fighting like the others. What could we contribute?"

"We have many avenues for research, and negotiation that your talents would be a benefit to."

Lily bit her lip and turned to James who shrugged and looked across the table as the serious faces of his friends. Being willing to defend people against the Dark forces was one thing, but working outside the bounds of the law was another. Even though they would be doing good, helping probably more people than they could as Aurors alone, it was still a big decision. If the Ministry or, James shuddered, Crouch found out they'd be locked up for life before you could say 'innocent'. And yet...

Clearing his throat Dumbledore steepled his fingers and said, "I am sorry I cannot give you more time, but I must ask for an answer. Will you join us?"

Alice broke off her whispered conversation with Frank and met Dumbledore's clear blue eyes and said firmly, "Yes."

"Yes," said Frank, nodding.

"Definitely," affirmed Sirius.

"We'll join," said Lily and James in unison.

"Yes," said Peter quickly, nervously.

Remus hesitated a moment, knowing that the 'negotiations' would probably involved him and a pack of werewolves. "Yes," he said at last. This way at least he could do _something_.

"Thank you," said Albus sincerely, "And welcome to the Order of the Phoenix."

XoXoX

He walked up the enclosed stone steps from the platform and turned the corner into the grand foyer, briefcase in hand. The foyer was full of people. Empty. He was imagining them. He turned; before him stood a woman, glowing with white light. She reached out and touched him. Then he knew. He was asleep. Dreaming.

She looked familiar. Dark hair and soft features. She looked down; he followed her gaze. There lay a young woman curled on the floor under a thin blanket. Blood oozed from a wound.

He heard himself speak. "Who are you?" It was Morrigan on the floor. The glowing woman looked like her but with a rounder face.

"She shouldn't have to bear this. It wasn't her fault." He took this with the equanimity of the dreamer.

Morrigan jerked in her sleep. A cold finger running down her spine; an elf walking over her grave.

"It was my error," she said.

He looked through the speaking woman.

There was a golden door that felt familiar; an older woman who didn't. The white light woman was there next to a dark-wrapped man. A bright living light came from the door and hit the man.

"Now she pays the consequences."

The white woman looked at him and he raised his wand. "Please help her when she comes to you. Don't turn her away." He stared into bright light. "Help her, Severus..."

XoXoX

"This isn't working," said Sirius, practically throwing his mug onto the table. It had been four months since he had joined the Order of the Phoenix, along with his best friends, and he had become a fully fledged, battle hardened Auror. In that time he'd saved a lot of lives, fought a lot of battles, and learnt just how hidebound the Ministry really was. But right now Sirius wasn't pissed at the Ministry but at the Order. "In the last few weeks we've interrupted dozens of attacks, fought who knows how many Death Eaters, and it isn't enough!" He thumped his fist on the table. "We're still only responding!"

"What do you suggest, Black?" Moody asked, pouring sugar into his coffee.

It was a full Order meeting, an event that rarely happened for security reasons, and everyone was a little on edge. They'd been forced to find a larger place to meet and although Sirius's Hebridean home was secure there was still the concern of someone spotting and reporting them. After all, a meeting quadrupled the number of wizards in the Inner Hebrides.

"We need to get there at the beginning or before the attacks. We need information. We need a rat inside the Death Eaters." Sirius's eyes lit up at the prospect.

"Since we're never going to get one of them to turn," Moody said, not noticing Peter Pettigrew's head jerk up at Sirius's suggestion. "I propose we move on to more useful things. Elphias, Lily, how are those new communication methods working out?"

The large group launched into a discussion on long and short-distance communications, Lily Evans and Elphias Doge leading the charge. It was one of the major questions – how to contact a disparate group of people without using methods that took hours, especially when not all members could be guaranteed to be next to a fire at all times.

A tap on Remus Lupin's shoulder made him start and turn to look questioningly at the usually benign face of Albus Dumbledore. The elderly, yet spry man beckoned him aside and they slipped quietly out of the room into what looked like a cross between a drawing room and a motorbike workshop.

Albus smiled indulgently at the mess before fixing Remus with a solemn look. "How are you, my boy?"

"I'm well, thank you Albus," said Remus, feeling rather curious as to what this was about. It wasn't often that the Head of the Order took someone aside.

"And your condition?"

Remus blinked. "I'm handling it."

"Good, good." Albus wandered over to what looked like a pile of oily junk but was probably an engine. "Remus. Have you ever been contacted by any of the packs in Britain?" he asked.

"Yes," said Remus hesitantly. "Once when I was turned and again when I graduated. Albus?"

"You know what has been occurring in East Anglia with the werewolves?" Albus asked, ignoring the tacit question of where he was going with this.

"Yes," growled Remus. He knew what had been happening. The Essex pack, led by the rogue Fenrir Greyback, had been tearing through villages attacking anyone they could lay teeth and claws on. Positioning themselves near a target village just prior to the full moon, the werewolves didn't even_ try_ to fight their natures. Allied with Voldemort, the pack represented everything Remus hated. "Yes," he growled again, "I know."

"I have been considering the problem and have formulated the most likely solution. We must, if you'll pardon the expression, fight fire with fire."

"You want werewolves to fight werewolves." Remus shook his head at the audacity of the idea. "I'm only one man, Albus."

"Indeed. But you do have leadership skills. Skills which a neutral pack would recognise."

"You – you want me to join a pack, work my way up to being Alpha, and then lead the pack in an attack against the Essex lot. Albus, do you know how much time that would take? Fenrir Greyback may have taken over the Essex pack quickly, but that's because he _killed_ the Alpha. I won't do that."

"I know that Remus." Albus lay a firm hand on the young man's shoulder. "All I'm asking is that you try."

Remus looked doubtful; in the time he had know Albus Dumbledore he had never seen the man ask for anything less than a person's best. And, being the respected person he was, this meant that everyone always gave 120%, not wanting to disappoint the man with a twinkle in his eye. Yet even knowing this didn't lessen the kindly old wizard's power over him. He nodded, a little reluctantly, he would go to the werewolves and see what he could do.

XoXoX

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	26. Find me somebody to

Chapter Seven

Behind the tall privet hedge a manicured lawn and neatly tended flower beds spoke of wealth and power. Or at least a good gardener. Peter dithered outside the gates, putting off the moment when he walked up the gravel drive between the beautiful flowers to knock on the grand door of the Georgian Mansion. Twitchy, he tugged on his best sweater again, trying to smooth out the wrinkles but only succeeding in stretching it slightly.

It had been one short sentence that had led him here.

"_What we need is a rat in the Death Eaters."_

Peter believed then and believed now, that that comment had been aimed at him. Who else could Sirius have meant? He, Wormtail, was the one with a rat Animagus form, and he, Peter, had had a brother who had been a Death Eater. Though Peter had no idea how to go about contact the Dark Forces directly he knew that now was the time to have some Gryffindor courage and try.

So here he was, standing outside Malfoy Mansion in Wiltshire, ready to find out exactly what Lucius Malfoy had meant at Mark's funeral. If Lucius was a friend to Mark then he may know how to contact the Death Eaters. Then all Peter had to do was not get caught as a spy. He shivered against the non-existent cold, set his hand on the gate and pushed.

"Mr. Peter Pettigrew, master," the house elf announced, bowing before hurrying away.

"Peter! Come in, come in," said Lucius, a diplomatic smile taking the place of his smug grin. "Have a seat. Would you like a firewhiskey? What am I saying? Of course you would. Here. How have you been?"

"Uh, fine, thank you," Peter said, coughing as the alcohol burnt his throat, "Sorry."

"Not at all." Lucius leaned in conspiratorially and lied, "That still happens to me sometimes."

Peter smiled nervously and set the tumbler down on a small table. Lucius leaned back and mimicked Peter's hand placement – a well known tactic to put someone at ease. Then, with a deliberately softened edge to his look, he asked, "Tell me. What brings you here today?"

"We, I-I last saw you at Mark - my brother's funeral. You said you knew him, and I was wondering how well." Peter's eyes were wide in an attempt to appear ingenuous.

Lucius wasn't taken in for a moment. He'd seen that look far too often on the faces of young artless Slytherins, and, if he cared to admit it, on his own face when he was a young artless boy. Nevertheless he appeared to accept the fakery as truth. "Oh, well, let's see. I first met your brother at a party about four, five years ago. Just after I got out of Hogwarts." He smiled indulgently, letting his eyes crinkle, sharing the camaraderie of school with Peter. "I found him a most fascinating and ... refreshing individual."

"Refreshing?" Peter asked. How could a person be refreshing? A cool glass of water, maybe …

"Yes. In his ideas; about magic and inheritance and – a wizard's place in society." Lucius remembered actually meeting with Mark Pettigrew for the first time. He'd thought him overzealous and prone to irrationality, but he wasn't going to say that here. "But I'm sure he told you all about that."

"He did write to me, yes. I thought, think, that some of his ideas are rather good," Peter said with a trace of honesty. He did think that what what Mark had told him about werewolves being misunderstood and deserving recognition was time. Certainly it applied to Remus Lupin.

"From what I understand, talking to him and others over the years, the idea is of a better wizarding society. One in which those families with heritage, the, ah, Purebloods have their power and ability recognised. To be given their worthy positions at the top, rather than languishing with those of no consequence." Lucius felt a sense of satisfaction as he was Peter, mouth a little ajar, unconsciously nodding along. Hooked. Time to reel him in. Pressing a modest hand to his chest he said, "But I am no speaker, I couldn't possibly explain all of the Vision your brother had for the future of wizarding society. I do have a ... friend who is far better than I at elucidating these things."

"Could I meet him?" asked Peter, maybe a touch too eagerly. Mentally he tried to back off a little, but it sounded like this 'friend' could be a Death Eater – he could be Peter's way in.

"Well, I don't know, he's a very busy man. A lot on his plate. He is trying to change the world after all." Lucius spread his hands. Let them come to you. Those who walk in of their own volition are easier to control.

"Oh, um, well, I wouldn't want to take up his time. Maybe if he had ten minutes sometime, five even?"

"Perhaps if I could tell him you were serious about the cause..."

Peter nodded energetically. "Oh you can. I think it's right that w-we should take our rightful place in society, absolutely." He felt a little proud of himself, pretending to believe in the Dark Forces ideology, and being brave enough to include _Lucius Malfoy_ in with him.

"In which case I will try my very best to set up a meeting between the two of you. You're _exactly_ the sort of person I think he's looking for."

"Really?"

"Of course," Lucius said silkily. And it was true. With Pettigrew's connections to the Ministry Aurors and Dumbledore's interfering little group, he really was exactly the sort of person they were in need of.

XoxoX

When Peter left the Mansion, gates clanging closed behind him, he did so feeling like a very different person. He felt taller, more in control of his life than ever before, ready and eager to take on the world. He had walked into the home of the second richest Pureblood in Britain and walked out again not feeling like an idiot. He had fooled a Slytherin, _the _Slytherin, Lucius Malfoy into thinking he agreed that Muggle-borns were inferior, worthless beings.

Peter _was_ a Gryffindor, brave and courageous, despite what his friends had said about him being as useless as a flobberworm. Well, he'd show them! But not yet. He would wait. Wait until he'd insinuated himself into the ranks of the Death Eaters and had lots of information. Then he'd turn up to an Order meeting and everyone would pay attention to _him_.

Peter smiled and tried to stride off down the road. The effect was spoiled a little by the fact that he had no idea how to stride confidently, and so he ended up with a rolling gait like a drunken pirate on shore leave. Peter didn't care though; one owl, one meeting, and he'd be **Somebody**.

XOXOX

"Cease fire!" yelled Moody across the cavernous space. He strode over to one of the groups of Aurors, no longer leaning on his cane, the light reflecting angrily off his new eye-patch. All eyes, both of the recently commissioned and well established Aurors, followed him. They were running a live fire simulation with new tactics, a necessary move against the growing ranks of the Dark Forces.

Moody stopped in front of the group containing Frank Longbottom, his best friend from school Patrick O'Riley, one of the Prewett brothers, and an old Auror named John Smith. Fixing the four men with an intimidating one-eyed stare Moody snapped, "What is the first rule?"

"Watch your own back," the four chorused in varying shades of confidence.

"Any why do we watch our own backs, even when in a team?"

"By watching your back you watch everyone else's."

"Good." Moody leant into O'Riley; getting in his face. "Look to your left," he said sweetly, "What do you see?"

Patrick swallowed and looked left, expecting to see a fake enemy closing on him. There was no one there. Patrick breathed a sigh of relief, quietly, and said, "I see nothing sir."

"Smith," Moody said, inviting the leader of the team to give his opinion.

The man looked, then shot an annoyed look at Patrick. "I see a bloody great big gap sir."

"And what can fit in a gap like that, O'Riley?"

"A Death Eater, sir," Patrick said in a very small voice.

"Precisely." Moody turned and walked back up to his platformed vantage point. "The rules are not there for their own sake, or just to be remembered and spouted at the right time. They are there for your safety! Disobey them and you will be facing the final reprimand. Begin fire!"

The simulation started up again and Moody watch happily as all the teams drew a little closer together. The new tactics were working. Small teams, working as separate units, bound into one larger force. Everyone paying attention to the rules. It was a sight for sore eyes. Eye. Moody resisted the temptation to rub his missing eye. The last battle he'd been in had not been good. The Ministry's surveillance department had seriously fouled up. They said one Death Eater, Moody had found four. Tactics were all well and good, what he really needed was better information.

XOXOX

What James needed was not to be pinned down in the corner of the graveyard. The other two members of his team were happily ensconced in the middle of the tombstones, able to dive and roll from one to the next as the band of Death Eaters blew them up. He, on the other hand, was stuck behind a Victorian tabletomb being fired at rather viciously by a Death Eater who looked, beneath the white mask and billowing robes, vaguely familiar.

Tentatively he put one eye round the edge of the stone box, and hurriedly drew back as a purple spell came straight for him. He looked over at Gideon and Sirius; they were fighting four wizards quite successfully, or at least excitedly from the gleeful taunting. Reintroducing Sirius to the Prewett twins had possibly been the most disastrous thing the Auror training programme had done. They were all far too alike – no sense of self-protection, overly strong sense of humour, and tendency to provoke their enemies.

They were also too far away.

A good ten feet of neatly mowed lawn lay between James and the ranks of headstones which were being used as shields.

James automatically ducked even lower as another chunk of tabletomb was blasted off over his head. Then he had an idea: he couldn't put any part of himself in the open lest it be blown off, but all he needed was his wand pointing at the Death Eater. Carefully he rolled his wand over the edge and turned it towards where he had last seen the man. Grasping the handle between forefinger and thumb he prayed this would work. A weak, but viable, stunner shot out the end. But instead of cheering as a body thumped to the ground, James jerked his hand back and sucked his singed fingertips. This Death Eater had good aim.

A whisper of his name from his left made him look over and see Sirius, tucked behind a gravestone and grinning madly at him. A series of incomprehensible hand gestures followed Sirius' whisper. James shook his head and indicated that he should stop and go through it again more slowly. What came across seemed like a completely insane, and thus totally Sirius, plan. But since James was in danger of needing his own plot in the graveyard he took a deep Sirius's-crazy-plans-often-work breath and nodded.

The plan was simple, after a count of three they would both get up, providing cover fire for each other, and James would race across to join Sirius. With a modicum of luck they'd down the Death Eater in the process.

Simple, effective and doomed to failure from the moment they stood up and saw there was not one Death Eater but two.

XoxoX

"Some help here!" yelled James as he burst into the receiving room of St. Mungos. "Can I get some help here?"

A medic turned at the sound of his urgent voice and came hurrying over once he had seen the white face of Sirius and the Auror emblem on their robes. Gently he helped James lower Sirius into a chair and began the standard scans.

"What happened?"

"He was hit with a blasting curse."

"And he's still standing?" the Medic asked, bewildered. His brow began to furrow as he assessed the damage. "Are you sure he was hit?"

"Yes! He was hit with a blasting curse right there." James prodded the spot on Sirius's chest where he'd been hit.

"OW!" Sirius yelped, ashen-faced and in shock.

"If he'd been hit with that curse his breastbone would be broken." The Medic poked Sirius's bone eliciting another yelp of pain and a scowl. "But it's not."

"I'm telling you I saw him fly ten feet after a really annoying Death Eater hit him with a blasting curse right THERE!"

"Will you stop poking me!" Sirius exclaimed, "That hurts!"

The medic shook his head and summoned a clipboard. "There's nothing wrong with him except shock and bruising. I'm prescribing rest, liquids and painkillers." He scribbled on the clipboard then passed it to James. "Fill out his name, Auror registry and current address. Hand that into reception, collect the potions from the dispensary, and you're free to go."

James took the clipboard and watched as the medic turned away to deal with his next patient. He sat heavily down next to Sirius and, feeling a little in shock himself, created quill and ink.

"I remember flying through the air," said Sirius leaning towards him, "If it makes you feel any better. Doesn't make me feel any better, but then I keep getting poked."

Form filled in, James took it to the slightly scary woman on reception, picked up half a dozen doses of pain-potion from the dispensary and went back to help Sirius to his feet.

"I feel woozy."

"That's because you're in shock," James said, walking Sirius to a fireplace and grabbing some floo powder and throwing it into the fire. Then they were whizzing home.

XoxoX

James sat in the chair by Sirius's fire with his eyes closed and his glasses hanging from one hand as he waited for the girls to arrive. Sirius was in bed, having been filled with water and painkillers. James had notified Auror Command and received the A-OK to stay off duty till tomorrow. He'd also been informed that Gideon had delivered three Death Eaters to the cells, the others having apparated away before they could be captured. It was a brilliant night's work, and although Sirius' miraculous recovery was playing on his mind, James tried to shut off and relax.

He sat listening to the crackle of the fire and slowly felt his shoulders drop and his back muscles loosen. Just as he was starting to drift off the light flared in the room, visible through his eyelids, and James heard two people stop out of the fireplace. Reluctantly he cracked open one eye, then the other, and was rewarded with the blurry but beautiful sight of his red-headed lady.

"Where is he?" came the worried question from Beatrice, one step behind Lily.

James lifted an arm and pointed in the direction of Sirius's bedroom. Beatrice hurried off. Lily crouched down, plucked the glasses from his hand and carefully placed them on his face. Playfully James reached out and tugged on a lock of Lily's hair.

Lily laughed quietly and asked, "Have you eaten?"

He gave her a mournful look.

"I'll make you a sandwich," she said.

When Beatrice came back down James was happily munching on a giant sandwich with a big glass of juice at hand. Lily had re-stoked the fire and was watching James inhale his food.

"How is he?" she asked.

"Bruised all over but sleeping now." Beatrice turned to James. "Thank you. If you hadn't thrown that shield up before he hit, he could be... Thank you."

James choked in his confusion, trying to speak whilst swallowing. He hadn't raised any shield. Sirius had counted to three, they'd both jumped up throwing paralysing spells and been thwarted by there being two enemies rather than one.

A fierce battle had ensued, and as Gideon raced over from finishing off his last man Sirius's opponent had thrown a blasting curse right at him. The spell, which had been blowing up gravestones earlier, sent Sirius flying. James had been in no position to do anything as his original attacker was proving his extensive knowledge of the Dark Arts.

Approaching from behind, Gideon had stunned the blaster, and James's man had apparated over to the four downed Death Eaters, vanishing with a couple of them seconds later. Running over to Sirius, James had been convinced that he'd find him with broken bones and internal injuries. That he was alive and only bruised was incredible.

More incredible was him lying to Beatrice about James saving him. The first thing James was going to do once Sirius was feeling better was interrogate him. Now, however...

"You're welcome," he sputtered, thumping himself on the chest as bacon tried to become air. He took a deep, slightly painful breath and tried to ease the feeling of something lodged in this throat with a drink. It worked and after a couple of seconds he tried again, this time more strongly. "You're welcome."

"I'm going to stay here tonight." Beatrice held up a hand to forestall the questions. "My parents think I'm at Alice's."

"In which case..." Lily got up and hugged the taller girl, admonishing her to be good. James drained the last of his juice and together they went through the swirling green flames.

XoxoX

Remus was waiting for them at home with chocolate cake and alcohol. James quickly got changed out of his green-smeared Auror robes and explained exactly what had happened, including Sirius's lie to Beatrice. Together the three of them munched their way through half the cake and debated how Sirius seemed to have both the best and the worst luck in the world.

By the time most of the bottle of wine had vanished and James was yawning, they'd agreed that something odd had happened, though the alcohol blurred the possibility of finding a logical answer. Possible answers, sure. Logical, not a chance. Finally James declared himself done and wandered to bed.

Sitting on his bed James threw his socks vaguely in the direction of the hamper. He was sure it had been closer before. Before something. Ohh, the alcohol. Yes. He was tired and a little squiffy. A soft pair of arms slid round him and he didn't feel so tired anymore.

"I'm glad you're alright," said Lily, kissing his neck.

"I'm always alright," he replied huskily, turning to take her in his arms, "So long as you're with me."


	27. Human Nature

**Thank you to all those reviewers who have helped push this story over the 50 review mark. You all deserve a round of applause. Or at least another chapter...**

Chapter Eight

Moony crouched outside the farm waiting for the very human farmer to call his last sheepdog in. The dog, who would not take kindly to a werewolf wandering through its territory, was padding round the tractor shed where the farmer was working. Silently it drew a circuit round the open tractor and oily farmer, then it stood staring out the doorway before round it went again. Though Moony was deliberately downwind of the farm and the dog, its restless movement showed it could still sense a potential threat. Finally, with a reverberating clang, the farmer closed up the tractor's engine. Wiping his hands on a cloth he whistled the dog to follow and vanished into the house.

In the shadows Moony stayed perfectly still, counting to one hundred slowly before he made his move. Casting about at the farm gate Moony found the scent he was looking for. A human had passed this way, a human with an oddly wolfish scent. Moony squeezed through a gap between fence and gate and took off through the farm. Nose to ground, he passed the tractor shed and hay barn, sheep pen and farmhouse. He tracked the scent through the centre of the farm and out into the field beyond.

Sheep ran up the hill, silent as their short legs carried them away from the predator. Only once they were safely away would they make their baa-ing racket. Moony ignored them, he wasn't hungry and preferred his lamb, well, dead. The scent trail led him on, through a gate and over a stone wall. Briefly he looked up at the half-moon and gave a wolfish grin. Then he spotted the small stone building halfway up the next hill. There was a dim light glowing in the dark through its window. Moony turned his trot into a mile-eating lope.

A man sat hunched by his small fire, the wind that skipped though the doorless entrance sending shadows skittering across the walls. He looked up sharply as Moony emerged from the countryside to sit blocking his escape. He scrambled up, putting the fire between himself and the animal as the werewolf began to change. Limbs lengthened, hips rotated, the last of the fur vanished and Remus stood up. Dressed in only a pair of shorts, a key dangling on a gold chain around his neck, Remus stepped inside, closer to the fire, before the cool air froze him.

The man gaped. "Lupin. H-how is that possible?"

"Gordon," Remus greeted the man. The fire made his eyes glow gold as he made a quick decision. "About two years ago I was part of an... incident during which a large amount of Wild Magic was released. I see you know of it."

"Every werewolf knows of the Wild Magic," Gordon scoffed, forgetting his trepidation for a moment. "It makes us what we are."

"That event seems to have made me different." Remus looked back at the half-moon. "I'm not bound to the moon anymore. So long as I change at least once a month I can transform at any time."

"Amazing."

"Yes."

The two werewolves stared and the fire and each other, small movements betraying Gordon's unease and Remus's confidence. A lot had changed for him in the last few months. Since Dumbledore had sent Remus out to make contact with a pack he'd found himself immersed in a very different world. He'd discovered what it meant to be among his own kind, to run with wolves, to hunt with wolves. Having his own mind as a wolf he'd been able to analyse and assess the interactions of the pack, to take advantage of uncertainties. He'd also found a sense of self, of confidence that he'd been totally lacking before. It was strange what a little control over your life could bring.

"Do you know why I'm here? Why I tracked you over all this distance?" Remus asked.

Gordon nodded, his fight-or-flight instinct making him shift nervously. "To kill me," he snapped out.

Remus smiled and gave a half-laugh. "No. Come back to the pack."

"The pack wants me dead," Gordon snarled, pacing the small one-roomed building.

"I am the pack," Remus said with force.

The effect of the words was instantaneous. The other man still, all his muscles quivering, his eyes and nostrils widening to test the statement. Some scent in the air, the way Remus was standing, it told him the truth. Slowly he bowed his head, acknowledging Remus' status as Alpha.

"I'm not going to order you back, Gordon, but if you want to come I will gladly accept you," Remus said, a slight quiver of unease about the power his new position conveyed. He wasn't accustomed to being in charge, but now he was things would change.

He watched as Gordon went to the small window and looked out over the night landscape. The other werewolf was unsure; the need for pack was strong, but he'd been driven out by the last Alpha and he'd seen no one fight for him.

"Would it make a difference if I told you Lindsey wants to see you?"

Gordon's head snapped round and a light came into his eyes. He took a deep breath and relaxed, nodding. "I will come," he said.

Remus smiled and came round the fire to lay a warm hand on Gordon's shoulder. "If the Wild Magic could change me then there is hope for all of us."

XOXOX

Beatrice sat in Madam Malkin's watching her mother discuss wedding attire with the proprietor and wondered if this was where her courage lay. It was a thought that had been plaguing her on and off since she'd said 'yes' to Rabastan LeStrange. She had been sorted into Gryffindor, the Hat believed she had courage, yet she hadn't left her Dark family, striking out on her own like Sirius. She'd stayed; through the engagement party, through the planning and the sorting and now the dress fittings. Perhaps this was a kind of courage too. It certainly required a great deal of strength not to get up and strangle her mother as she told Madam Malkin that ivory was not a suitable colour. Beatrice quite liked ivory; she'd often imagined her wedding day, her in an ivory gown adored with pearls and her groom in deep grey, bringing out his eyes.

Rabastan's eyes were a pale washy blue. Rabastan was an idiot who didn't deserve to clean her boots. And Rabastan would not be seeing her in any shade of white.

Somehow, Beatrice was going to get out of this wedding, this life. If only she had something to go to.

XOXOX

Peter stood outside the room in which he was to meet with Lucius and his 'friend'. His wand was lit and he was reading through the short letter that Lucius had sent last night. This was the place. Unable to put it off any longer he crumpled up the letter and stuffed it in a pocket, put out his wand and knocked on the door. There was a muffled call and Peter went inside.

At the far end of the room Lucius stood next to a high backed chair, talking with its occupant. He seemed to be making a request or having an argument; it was hard to tell with Slytherins. In the chair sat the man who Peter had come to see, he was – Peter froze. Thin physique, dark hair, pale almost glossy skin, and those eyes: red eyes! _You-Know-Who_! Peter couldn't even say the name in his own mind.

The Dark Lord looked over at him and gave a thin smile. Lucius beckoned him towards them, but Peter didn't move. Lucius gestured again, this time with a frown, but Peter couldn't move. His rattish instincts had frozen him in the face of something that terrified him. This wasn't how things were supposed to go!

Getting tired of waiting for the watery-eyed, shaking young man to move, Voldemort drew his wand from his robes and pointed it. "_Imperio,_" he said lazily. Immediately Peter stepped forward, no hesitation in his pace though his eyes were a touch glassy. When he reached a point just before the chair Voldemort snapped his wand down and Peter kneeled. His eyes lost their glassy look, his long nose practically vibrating with renewed fear.

"Peter Pettigrew," Voldemort said, eyes narrowing in assessment, "What do you want?"

"I-I-I want to be a D-Death Eater."

"Really? I don't think that's the truth." Voldemort's nostrils flared as he caught and held Peter's gaze. "Let's find out. _Legilimens_."

Suddenly Peter was floating in a sea of his own memories, watching as a force beyond his control drew out the information it desired. He saw Order meetings where he sat and contributed nothing. He saw the meeting where Sirius suggested having a spy among the Death Eaters. He saw himself sitting opposite Lucius Malfoy as the blond led him into a maze of words. Then he was back in the real world, panting, both hands on the floor in front of him. He felt confused, nauseous, and violated.

"My Lord?" he heard Lucius question.

"He wishes to be a spy. A spy among us for Dumbledore," Voldemort hissed angrily, spitting the name of his hated enemy. "There are no Traitors among us. _Crucio!_"

Peter writhed and twisted in agony, screams turning quickly into breathless gasps. The wizard who held him under the spell turned angry eyes on Lucius, only to find a steady gaze.

"We could let him be a spy, my Lord," Lucius said, holding himself perfectly still.

"What?" Voldemort's shock was enough to break his concentration and the Cruciatus spell failed. Was he surrounded by traitors today?

"He could be a spy for us, against Dumbledore."

Voldemort fingered his wand, half-debating whether to turn it on Lucius for bringing a traitor to him. He had been a stalwart ally since that awful loss. _Maeve_. The name echoed in his mind, before it was quashed violently. He had no time or need for useless emotion. Curiosity though... His curiosity was allowed, encouraged. "Was this the reason you brought him?"

"I thought he presented an opportunity which your skill would be able to take advantage of," said Lucius, soothing the ego of the uneven-tempered wizard while presenting a challenge. All in the same breath. He hadn't been placed in Slytherin for his looks.

"Even I would have to have something to work with," Voldemort sneered, "But we shall see. Look at me, Pettigrew."

Slowly Peter lifted his head, too scared and hurt to do anything except obey. His muscles screamed in protest as he winched himself to his knees and finally lifted his eyes. He met the terrible red gaze of his new worst nightmare and heard that memory invoking spell once more.

"_Legilimens._"

_Peter was stuck to the wall of the Gryffindor common room; a very unhappy boy. He'd provoked a fourth year by accidentally stepping on her favourite Lion hair-grip. She'd muttered a nasty hex and when he'd opened his eyes he was hanging above the fireplace. He'd tried everything he could think of to get down but now relied on his friends, returning from the successful Quidditch game, to unstick him._

_Sirius came in, took one look at Peter and started laughing. Peter smiled along while a mild bitterness settled in his stomach. Then Sirius turned to James and conjured some tomatoes. Peter's heart sank and the bitterness turned to a feeling of betrayal. That feeling worsened as a target appeared on his robes and the first fruit landed. Why did they have to do this? Couldn't they just get him down?_

**There are your friends?**

_Peter hurried down the corridor, arms full of bandages. He could hear Madam Pomfrey's angry voice behind him. If he could just get these to Sirius before she caught him._

**They treat you like a slave.**

_He sat down at the breakfast table, feeling tired and slow. He needed some food and a nice cup of tea. _

_James grinned lopsidedly and said to Sirius, "It's a good thing you got out of there, then."_

_Peter frowned, he'd thought Sirius had got detention for that last prank. "Got out of where?" he asked._

"_Can you be any more dense, Wormtail?"_

The scene shifted, melded into another.

_It was freezing in the corridor and Peter was having trouble keeping warm. He looked round the corner. If he could see James coming then he wouldn't have much longer to wait. _

"_You do realise you won't see him coming, right?" sneered Sirius._

**They think you're slow, stupid.**

"_What are you doing?" James catching Peter and his method of remembering spells._

"_What brain?" Sirius barked._

"_Peter wasn't born with any sense," Sirius again._

"_Please just go away, Peter," Remus snapping at him._

**They never wanted you around. And when you are they don't even notice you.**

"_I have an idea!" Peter cried out. "No other ideas? Great." James just didn't hear him. Right?_

"_Did you say something?" said kindly yet cutting so deep._

"_Sorry Peter, didn't see you there." Almost sat on for the fifth time that year._

**Friends would be there for you.**

_Peter opened the infirmary doors. No one had visited him. Maybe they were waiting for him to get out so they could. He looked eagerly out into the hall. No one._

**They don't even notice you exist.**

_Peter stood in the middle of the courtyard as it emptied. They hadn't waited for him before going to Hogsmeade. They hadn't waited! _

_He was alone._

**Join me and you will be noticed. You will be valued. Every piece of information you bring about the Order will be listened to. Your opinion will count. You need never be alone again. Join me and no longer be the target. **

Voldemort smiled as he left Peter's mind; such a wealth of memory to work with. So easy to pull the right things to the forefront and offer what appeared to be missing. Peter blinked and straightened in front of him. Once again Voldemort leaned forward slightly and asked, "What do you want?"

"I want to be a Death Eater," Peter said more strongly, through his voice rasped from screaming. "I want to spy for you, my Lord."

Voldemort turned to Lucius and nodded. Lucius smiled, a touch relieved, in return. He had made the right choice, over two years ago, approaching the younger Pettigrew, and now his forethought would truly pay off.

XOXOX

Lily slammed the front door, threw down her bag, and stormed upstairs. Fuming internally she started muttering as she changed out of her work clothes. By the time she closed the wardrobe door with a snap she was furious and making her feeling known quite loudly. She thudded her way back downstairs and into the kitchen determined to make dinner for only herself. That arrogant smart arse Potter could get his own!

"Keep dinner warm for me," Lily said in a mockingly saccharine voice, before returning to her own dulcet tones. "I'll keep dinner warm for you Potter. I'll keep it warm by sticking it under a dragon you ungrateful, pompous twat. What right do you think you have waltzing into _my_ place of work and speaking to me like that?"

Lily slammed down the frying pan and picked up the spatula, holding it tightly as she acted out James's behaviour, complete with over-exaggerated arm swings.

"Hey Lily-darling. Just wanted to let you know I'm gonna be late home tonight. I've drawn the short straw 'n' I'm gonna be on call tonight. Be home by midnight. Keep dinner warm for me. Love ya."

She grunted and threw the spatula into the pan before striding over to the fridge to yank out eggs, butter and cheese. There was a small part of her that knew James was trying to be nice, letting her know he'd be late. But the larger part of her was resolutely angry. For weeks, months, now it had been like this: long days at the office, barely seeing each other even at weekends. And below it all the unceasing worry every time he was called into action, every time there was an attack. Lily had had enough. She was sick of waiting up, of worrying, and sick of providing support. She wanted to be pampered, loved and treated like - well not like a queen but at least a princess. She did not want to be Potter's house elf!

Lily pulled open the fridge again, selected a pair of tomatoes and kicked the door closed. Picking up a sharp knife she started chopping, vindictively imagining James's head where the tomato was.

"Why me? Why do I have to do everything round here? I'm not a skivvy and we don't live in the 50s. He can cook his own dinner, I know he's capable. So why does he get me to do it? It's not like I _like_ cooking. Stupid Potter with his stupid hair and stupid – argh!"

As Lily had finished with the tomatoes she'd turned to dump them on the other side of the frying pan. But as she'd done so her sleeve had caught the handle and sent the pan flying from the stove. Automatically Lily reached out with her hands and her magic, even through she didn't have her wand and the pan was hot.

The pan froze.

So did Lily.

Hands outstretched, afraid to even move an inch, Lily stared at the pan. It was it mid-air, hot butter droplets flying out of it, half-way to turning over. And it was frozen. It simply wasn't moving.

Lily blinked but nothing changed.

This was new. She knew her magic had been getting stronger over the past year or so, she'd even had a couple of conversations with Ollivander about the nature of magic and whether it was her wand. But this – doing magic without a wand – this was completely –

The pan dropped.

– unreliable.

Hesitantly Lily poked at it with her toe, but it didn't appear to want to do any more tricks. She pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and lowered herself into it. She wasn't certain she could believe the evidence of her own eyes.

"Whose eyes am I supposed to believe then?" she muttered. "Doing magic without a wand is supposed to be impossible. Which means I can't have done it. But I don't have my wand. Which means I'm impossible. No. Wait."

Lily frowned then jumped in her seat as the front door opened and closed with a click.

"Lily?" came the query from a nice calm voice.

"Remus!" Lily half-yelped, grabbing a cloth and starting to clean up the mess on the floor. She heard the other young man she shared the house with pause in the doorway, trying to find her.

"You alright?" he asked, spotting her behind the table.

"Fine, fine. Just panned a drop, er, dropped a pan." Lily stood up feeling flustered. "Want some eggs?"

"Only if there's enough," Remus said with a smile. "Do you need any help?"

"No, no, I'll be fine." Lily smiled at Remus as he nodded and wandered out of the kitchen to change.

"I'll be fine," she whispered.

XOXOX

**Please let me know if the formatting for this chapter is unclear.**

**Many Thanks.**

**LB**


	28. Ambush

**Apologies for the delay, I have had NO internet connection for the last two days. So I thought I'd be kind and give you two chapters instead of one. Enjoy! (And REVIEW!) LB**

Chapter Nine

Peter sat on a rock out of sight of the Order's meeting place and shivered. No one had noticed, no one had seen. For them it was as if he hadn't changed, as if there was no difference between him then and him now. Inside Peter knew that everything had changed; he was now a spy, not against you-know-who but _for_ him.

A large shudder ran through him as the memory of the Dark Lord loomed in his mind. Peter picked his wand out of his pocket and stared at it. Maybe it would be better to turn it on himself rather than betray his friends again and again. _No_, he thought, scowling at himself, _I don't even have the courage to do that. Fine Gryffindor I make.___He snorted and pocketed the wand.

Looking out over the storm-weathered landscape Peter saw a Grey Seal's head bob up in the cloudy sea. They had it easy; what a life it must be, eat fish, swim in the sea, haul out on rocks. No worries, no cares. Not like him. The meeting just gone played on his mind, forcing him to relive that moment again.

_It was a small meeting, half the Aurors had been landed with the late shift making it impossible for them to arrive in time to make a meaningful contribution. It was subdued too; there were rumours that You-Know-Who had approached the giants. Emmeline Vance, silvering hair pulled back, went round the table asking for reports and making neat notes._

_Next to Peter, Remus glanced up as his name was called. "It's difficult to get into a pack as a," He bared his canines in a grin, "lone wolf. I've been rejected by the Pennine pack, but hope to have more luck with those in Hampshire. They're more... docile." Remus smiled at what was clearly a werewolf joke. No one questioned him. Dumbledore suspected he was lying, and had asked his close friends to keep an eye out, but without another source of information on the werewolves it was difficult to test what Remus said._

_Peter just shivered, he hated to be reminded that one of his friends was a monster. He froze slightly as Remus looked at him; was his defection obvious? Would Remus say something? Then Peter realised Remus was looking at him because Vance had asked if he had anything to report. The past week flashed through his mind. _

_He didn't realise it but this was the moment. This was the moment when his choice would be made. Friend or betrayer?_

"_No," he said. "Nothing to report, sorry."_

The sound of crunching gravel followed by the distinctive _crack!_ of apparation let Peter know that the last members of the Order of the Phoenix were leaving. The plans for the next night hadn't changed – no new intelligence had altered them. They would be staking out the home of a suspected Death Eater who was having a dinner party with possible Muggles. Peter shivered again, knowing that he would take the information to the Dark Lord, that some of his friends could die because of him. He hated it, but the thought of disobedience scared him more than anything else.

He just couldn't understand how no one had noticed he'd changed.

XOXOX

Twelve Order members hid in the undergrowth of some unclaimed woodland. Two hundred yards away a large suburban house stood as the last on its road. The Order had received information that the occupants, a Mr & Mrs Nott, were Death Eaters and that they would be having a small dinner party tonight. The most likely scenario was that they were recruiting for the Dark Lord, but equally this could be a trap for the guests. The Order had been unable to find out who was invited, so now a team was hidden in the bushes waiting for the guests to arrive.

Identification was the first priority, after that a tailored raid was planned. Since they were hoping to catch at least two Death Eaters tonight quite a few Aurors had been included in the team. There were also a pair of healers, a ward specialist and a young man with a talent for Obliviating.

The streetlights flickered on as the sun sank below the horizon. The growing hum of an engine heading their way brought heads up from where they were resting on hands. Edgar Bones brought up his Omniscope, training it on the car as it swung round the corner and drew to a halt. A young couple got out, the man holding the door for his pretty blonde wife. Bones passed his 'scope to Sirius and raised a questioning eyebrow at the others. Those who had seen the couple shook their heads – no recognition yet.

Sirius frowned as he watched the couple knock on the door and be greeted by Mrs Nott, he felt as if he knew the blonde from somewhere. Something about the way she walked or held her head... but he'd definitely never seen that face before.

Barely had the front door shut before there was another roar of an engine and a second car came careening round the corner. It screeched to a halt and two guys got out, the passenger railing at the driver. The phrase 'could have got us killed' floated across the sward and drew a small smile from those who'd seen Sirius on his bike. Muggle machines were dangerous things.

"That's all of them," muttered Bones as the door closed behind the bad driver. "Anyone recognise them?"

There was a chorus of quiet 'no's. Bones nodded and turned to Emmeline Vance, ward specialist, "Any problems?" he asked.

"Standard wards only," said Emmeline, sounding as if she couldn't quite believe the results of her own spells. "I'll need five minutes to take them down."

"Do it," commanded Bones. "Prewett, Potter & Cooper, you take the back. The rest of us will go in the front. Dearborn, Fenwick, Meadows, keep the Muggles away and keep an eye out. If you see trouble come running. Questions?"

"Which Prewett?" asked Fabian lowering his hand.

"Does it matter?"

Fabian looked at Gideon who shrugged and said, "No."

"Don't tell Marlene that," added Fabian with a grin.

A soft chuckle ran through the tense group and Bones smiled before checking his watch. "We've got four minutes. Go!"

The team scattered, some running quickly towards the wild garden at the back of the house, others keeping a low profile by walking steadily over the sward and down the road like Muggles.

A chime from Bones' watch was the signal, and the team closed fast on the house. There was a soft fizzle as the standard household wards which prevented a number of spells fell, then the Order was blasting open the door and into the house.

Sirius's half-formed expectation was of finding a prim party chatting politely over appetizers or maybe the starter. He had not been expecting to burst into the dining room and be faced with well-prepared party go-ers, wands drawn and faces set. Behind them, through the French windows, his friends, Alice, James, Gideon, were already battling with Death Eaters.

There was a half-second shocked pause. Then the fighting began.

Sirius faced off against Nott, dodging and ducking his flying spells as much as he used shields. Out of the corner of his yes he saw several Order members take a step back as more Death Eaters entered from the front of the house. Nott took advantage of Sirius' momentary distraction, hurling a bone-breaking curse his way, only to be blocked by Fabian Prewett. Sirius nodded his thanks, even if it wasn't likely to be seen or acknowledged, and took up the fight with Prewett's opponent.

The blonde woman greeted him with a feral grin before launching into a barrage of curses and hexes that had Sirius responding faster than he had ever done before. Throwing a silencing spell in between standard hexes Sirius grinned as the blonde fell silent. He quickly followed up his advantage with a series of stunners and binding curses, but the woman was too quick. She deflected the spells and with a flick of her wand undid the silencer to hiss, "_Crucio!_"

Sirius's eyes widened as he ducked, the yellow curse searing over his head. It might be a different voice but the infection was the same, and now it was obvious.

"Bella!" he spat.

The woman smiled a wicked smile. "What's wrong, cousin? Didn't you recognise me as a blonde?"

"Doesn't suit you," Sirius said shortly, his next curse sizzling through the air only to be deflected again.

"I don't think you're trying, Sirius," Bellatrix mocked, making him duck again.

Meeting her eyes with a foul look Sirius drew on eight years of school yard fighting and Auror training. He threw curses faster and thicker than he'd thought possible. Drawing her attention to one side then the other, making his wand seem to lie about what spell he was casting, Sirius found a new level. Just as he was forcing her to take steps back and throw up more shields than ever there came a strange but important cry.

"Pineapple!"

His attention lapsed for no more than a second, but that second was enough for Bellatrix's curse to slip past his shield and impact on his shoulder. Dropping his guard completely, Sirius decided to forego his wand in favour of a rugby tackle. He took Bellatrix round the middle, dumping her roughly on the floor and leaping through the broken French windows.

Sirius swung his free fist, impacting squarely on the face of a Death Eater fighting James. Then he took a breath and yelled, "PINEAPPLE!"

The reaction was instantaneous. Every Order member shot stunners, not at their opponent, but at another Order member's. Free of attack for an instant the cracks of disapparation began to ring out. Sirius looked wildly around, checking that everyone was out safely. Back in the house a resigned but still fighting Dearborn met his eye and indicated that Sirius should leave him. Sadly Sirius nodded, gave a furious Bellatrix a last smirk, turned on the spot and vanished.

Three hours later and Sirius was the last person in Dumbledore's Hogwarts office. He was nursing an Irish coffee, his legs stretched out towards the fire. He felt grimy and sweaty, the shoulder of his robes still torn from Bellatrix's cutting curse. The flesh underneath should have been severely damaged and still bleeding from the power she'd put into it, but there was only a paper-thin, shallow cut. Sirius's luck was still with him.

Gently Albus closed the door behind him as he came back into the room, trying to respect his guest's quiet mood. Sirius was roused from his thoughts nonetheless. He drained the last of his alcohol laced coffee, then stood in front of Dumbledore's desk, vaguely remembering all the times during school he'd stood in the same place.

Not meeting Albus's eyes, Sirius said, "If it wasn't a one off, then there's a spy in the Order."

"Indeed," came the bland response.

"One of us."

This time there was no response and Sirius set his mug on the corner of the table with a thud. Still Albus said nothing. There was a tension in the air that wasn't present before. Sirius looked up and met his eyes, hoping to see the usual all-knowing wisdom radiating forth, but instead being met with a blank expression. _So_, he thought, _this is where it begins. My association with Beatrice marking me, putting me under suspicion. Daughter of fanatical Purebloods, son of fanatical Purebloods, we must be Death Eaters, or at least supporters. How long will it be before-_

Sirius broke his line of thought and strode over to the door, a touch of anger in his movements. He wrenched it open only to be stopped by Albus saying his name. Sirius looked back, throwing a questioning glance at the old man.

"Be safe."

Now knowing quite how to take that, Sirius barely acknowledged the words before leaving the office and heading back out into the big bad world.

XOXOX

Severus dreamed.

_In the library of Tintagel King Lleu sat with his feet up, comfortably flicking through one of the great many leather bound books. Looking up as Mongan slipped into the room, he said, "They have an impressive collection of books here. You really should take some time to look through them, Mongan."_

_The slim black-clad man nodded slightly as he went over to stare out of the window at the grey mist. He scowled and fingered the short dagger he always carried on his belt. "Our brother is close to getting us out of this place."_

"_So he has told me," Lleu said with a smile. "One more lodestone and the spell will fall. I have already ordered more troops through the gate. When it falls we will be ready."_

_Mongan twitched and paced away from the window to the fire. Lleu watched as he rolled his shoulders trying to release tension before drawing his dagger to flick it up in the air and catch it deftly again and again._

"_What is bothering you, brother?" he asked._

_Catching his dagger Mongan laid it flat on the table and leant over it. He lifted his head and met his brother's calm grey eyes. "What if they fight?" he asked._

_Lleu laughed lightly as he came over to take Mongan by the shoulders. "They will fight and they will fail." He examined the storm in his brother's eyes. "That is not the issue though. Mongan?"_

"_It's the lady," Mongan admitted. "When I found a way through the doors and ensured she would be there to set us free I never imagined she would be so... human."_

"_So course she'd human. There's nothing left of us in her now." Lleu sat back down, discarding the book he had been flicking through to pull another from the shelves beside him. "We need to know more about these Death Eaters that Bran has seen in the glass. See to it."_

_Mongan bowed his head at the King's commanding tone. Picking up his dagger he sheathed it and paced from the room, only pausing once in the doorway to look back at his brother now laughing once again at the human books._


	29. New Beginnings

Chapter Ten

_Down in the dungeons it was dark and cold. Morrigan huddled in a corner with the ragtag remnants of an old blanket wrapped around her. She didn't react when a light flared or when the rattle of keys and screech of rusty hinges spoke of someone entering her cell, but when the smell of warm food hit her senses she scrabbled over to the dishes and pitcher of fresh water placed on the ground and ate greedily, not caring for manners, her whole posture more animal than human._

"_You really are a weak species," commented Mongan, watching her with disgust. "You need water every couple of days and feeding every week. You will be so easy to conquer, and everything you took from us will be ours again."_

_Speedily finishing the poor meal, Morrigan grabbed the remaining half-loaf of bread and scurried back over to her corner, not looking at her tormentor at all. He crouched down beside her, drawing his dagger. Morrigan froze, like a rabbit caught in headlight, her eyes unwillingly drawn to the weapon._

_Mongan sneered and said, "Right now, I need you to tell me everything you know about the Death Eaters."_

Severus bolted up in bed, his hands clenched in his hair, and tried not to scream in frustration. For over a year he had been dreaming of her, watching as she gave in, as her defences crumbled and as she told the Elves everything she knew. He could do nothing. Nothing – neither help her or get rid of the dreams and help himself. Severus had tried everything from incantations to potions but still the dreams came, still he had to watch impotent as Morrigan suffered. He had even created a new, stronger potion that gave dreamless sleep to everyone who tried it. Everyone except him of course.

So he had turned away from potions and delved into dream-lore and divination. The deeper he'd gone, the more he'd learnt, the more he felt certain that these dreams were nothing of the sort. They were not of his creation. According to the books that he had read, the people he had consulted (then Obliviated) he was, for some unfathomable reason, a Seer.

There had been a small happy problem with this hypothesis. The visions that Seers were sent were sent for a reason and usually by a more knowing being. Gods, dead men, mislaid fantasists. Then, six months ago, he'd dreamt of a dead woman. Maeve Le Fay, Morrigan's mother. She had exhorted him to look after Morrigan. To help her. Which was very nice, but meant that he could avoid the truth no longer. He was both an actual Seer, and supposed to help Morrigan somehow. Which was all very well and good, except that, since she was going through torture at the hands of the Elves, he was undoubtedly supposed to rescue her. Something which was a) impossible and b) a job for a Gryffindor.

He sighed and got out of bed; there was no way he was going back to sleep now. He might as well check on his brewing potions. Slipping into a dressing gown and slippers, Severus padded downstairs and into his kitchen-cum-laboratory. Sitting next to a low gas flame the black potion fermented in the half-light. Severus sniffed it, bending over the cauldron to see if he could smell any trace of pine remaining. There was just a hint: the potion would need another few hours yet.

Idly he traced the pattern of the Dark Mark under his skin, feeling the slight raise. Things had been going well on that front. Though he couldn't quite agree with all of the Dark Lord's policies, he was committed to changing Magical politics in Britain. Of course if the dream he'd just had was true and the Elves were getting close to making a move, then more than politics would be changing. Severus had been passing information to the Dark Lord about the status of Tintagel, claiming that he had a contact within the Intelligence dept of the Ministry. A friend of a friend. Only one man knew the truth of the matter.

One night in August Severus had dreamt something different. He saw Lucius's Wiltshire home raided, and his friend taken to Azkaban for possessing Dark Artefacts. It had felt so real that the moment he had woken he'd raced to Malfoy Mansion and woken everyone up with his mad appearance and senseless ramblings. Eventually Lucius had calmed him down and extracted a great many details from him. One small detail was Severus's unhappy Seer status.

Later Severus had been rather angry about letting that fact escape him – something his second best pewter cauldron could attest to.

Knowing what he knew Lucius could have made life very difficult for Severus after that. He didn't. The reason why he didn't was a bit of a mystery, or incredibly Slytherin. Severus had to trust that Lucius wouldn't reveal his secret at an inopportune moment, and Lucius had to trust that Severus would tell him all the relevant information he dreamed. A wonderful little arrangement which had led to snide arguments, intelligent discussions, and the occasional exclamation of 'You try being a Seer!'.

It was a strange world.

XOXOX

There was a strange thing lying off the north coast of Cornwall. It had been there for almost two years, casting its mysterious pall over land and sea. It was a mist. A deep grey mist. A Muggle weatherman had noted that it didn't move or disperse, and had been sitting in the same place for a month. The Ministry of Magic had an operative pop into the Met. Office and rearrange charts, figures and people's memories. One month of mist was odd, but not odd enough to worry to country. Good thing they didn't know it had been there for two years. The locals didn't though. The closer you got to the mist the less you saw it. Unless you were a wizard.

The Ministry had a man monitoring the mist. The job was rather boring, and so he had popped into a local pub for a drink. If he'd known what was going to happen that night he might have chosen not to.

In the very heart of the fog bank a light, swirling breeze sprang up, died away, and sprang up again. The wind was highly fitful at first, but slowly it cleared a space in which to really swirl. Then it began to work its way outwards in a great spiral, until the entire mist was dancing and curling. Bits broke off with little sparks of light, became thready and vanished. Soon the mist was a great display of white lights and swirling patterns.

The fog cleared, and out of the darkness a castle emerged atop a granite peninsula. A last curtain of light lingered, then, with a sound like ripping cloth, it broke and faded.

Tintagel had returned.

XOXOX

On a crooked hill some way from Tintagel, in the great wilderness of Exmoor three centaurs met. They stood, gazing at the clear star-strewn sky, watching the dance of the planets. Their stately progression reflected the events that had yet to pass in the world of mortal men.

The eldest centaur, hands folded in front of him, noted the passage of Saturn, the bringer of disastrous events, misfortune and death. He looked deeper than the golden surface, beyond the rings and saw not just the the deaths of mortal kind but the death of an age.

The youngest, whose coat shone under the pale moonlight and who had yet to gain true stillness as he pawed at the ground with a hoof occasionally, looked up. He saw the conjunction of Mars and the constellation of Cancer. It made his hearts beat faster and his blood hum with the vigour of war. There would be blood spilt and many enemies to face.

The last, whose own ambiguity was a mere reflection of the moon's silvered face, found his eye drawn to the constellations yet to rise. Only two stars of Scorpio shone on the horizon; they would not reach ascendency for some time to come. Yet their influence on the dance was strong, warning the world below of the downfall pride could bring.

"The veil has fallen," he spoke into the night.

"The Elves are coming," the youngest announced.

They turned to the eldest centaur, who had yet to speak, waiting for his interpretation of the night sky. The stars wheeled overhead and a cold wind rode in from the sea. Still he did not speak. The ambiguous one and the youngest turned back to their contemplation of the heavens, patient as only centaurs could be. They waited, and as the sun rose he finally spoke.

"Out of death comes life."

"Ahh." The others rejoined, nodding sagely.

And as the sun claimed the heavens for its own, turning the sky a brilliant blue, the three centaurs galloped away from the windswept hill, across the wild moors that had once belonged to more than man.

XOXOX

The bride paced back and forth across her borrowed bedroom, wringing her hands and trying not to ruin her make-up. It was her wedding day, nothing should go wrong on her wedding day! The door opened and Lily came in shaking her head.

"I've looked everywhere, Alice. I'm sorry. Oh, hey, don't cry. Here." Lily cast an impervious charm over Alice's make-up then conjured a handkerchief. "If it comes to it I'm sure one of us can conjure up-"

"No," Alice sniffed. "It has to be that bouquet; it's got the ribbon from my grandma, and the blue flowers from our garden and, ohhh." She stifled the tears in the hanky, Lily's impervious charm making sure the delicate touches of make-up weren't ruined.

Lily drew Alice over to the seat by the looking-glass and, taking care not to squash either of their dresses, sat down next to the bride. She pointed to the girl in the mirror and said, "She's the most beautiful girl in the world today. Frank is a very lucky man because you are a fantastic person. And it's you he's marrying, not a bouquet, you."

Alice sniffed for a while, then gave Lily a damp smile. "I guess you're right. I just wanted everything to be perfect," she said.

The door opened sharply, caught just in time from hitting the wall by Augusta Longbottom who frowned at the triumphant Beatrice. She was waving the missing flowers exuberantly, a winning grin on her face. Alice jumped up and took it off her, checking it over before giving her bridesmaid a massive hug.

"Where did you find it?" she breathed.

"Still in its box. Course the box was in the wine cellar." Beatrice's expression spoke volumes about _that_ discovery.

Alice hugged her again, thanked her profusely, then brandished the flowers at Lily, declaring that everything was perfect now. That set off a whole round of hugging and tears for the soon-to-be-wed woman.

"A-hem," interrupted Augusta, "I believe my son is waiting for you, my dear."

"Yes," said Alice, her smile like the sun coming out from clouds. A last check of her dress was all that was needed, and then Augusta led the bride and her bridesmaids out to be married.

Lily watched the newly-weds having their photograph taken from the terrace balcony overlooking the Longbottom Estate Gardens. Alice in her simple embroidered white dress, Frank in his black dress robes. They looked perfect together, light complimenting dark; deep loving looks passing between them. Lily sighed and leant on the stone railing, careful not to dirty her royal blue dress.

"We've lost that. That closeness," commented James sadly, coming out of the house to lean on a decorative stone urn. He looked on as the happy couple kissed for the camera, then he asked, "We're not going to make it, are we?"

The normally fiery young woman tried to say something, to deny that there was a problem, but found herself shrugging slightly and balancing her head on her folded hands. She couldn't pretend there was nothing wrong, and though this was surely not the best time to talk about their relationship, it felt like the perfect time to admit to the truth of things.

"There are problems on both sides," James went on, "I've been too caught up in my work, in the Order, in fighting for the politics that would mean our relationship would never be frowned upon again, that I lost sight of us." James shook his head slowly and picked at the moss covering the carved stone. "I should have been more aware of the fact that we were spending so little time together. And of how worried you've been."

"Yeah, you should have been more aware," agreed Lily, standing straight so she could fold her arms angrily. "You've no idea what it's been like sitting at Headquarters while you go out with the Order. Or at work when I hear that the Aurors are out fighting again and knowing that you're one of them."

"Maybe I would have known if you'd told me, rather than throwing plates at walls." James smiled grimly at her surprise. "Yeah, I know about that. I found the china chips in the wall and the scorch marks in Moony's dungeon. He doesn't take his wand down there, Lily, and he'd never throw a plate at a wall in his life. So I know you've been angry and worried, and yet you said nothing. You never said a word, Lily. Not to me."

"I didn't want you to- You had enough on your plate!" Lily snapped, tears threatening as she threw her arms out and turned away.

"You can _always_ talk to me. And I should talk to you. Otherwise we'll never have this." James lifted his hand to indicate the Wedding Reception going on around them. He turned back to Lily and reached out to her. "I don't want to lose you. I love you."

"I love you too," Lily said, coming into his arms. "We'll just have to try harder." She smiled into his shoulder as she felt his nod.

"Especially now," he said, "I heard yesterday, from an Unspeakable; Tintagel's back. They think the Elves are on the move."

Lily pulled back and saw his furrowed brow and the deep worry in his eyes, a worry that was matched in her mind. They, out of anyone, knew what this meant. They had heard the army, felt the wave of anger and the thirst for revenge. If the Elves really were on the move then a new war was coming, one in which the fractured nature of wizarding society could prove fatal.

Eyes flashing, Lily knew that there was no way she would remain behind the lines anymore. She could and would fight.

"We're going to need everyone we can get," James said, unconsciously echoing Lily's thoughts. Though she was the focus of his attention now, his eye had caught the figures of Sirius and Beatrice half-hidden by rhododendrons, and he smiled.

Sirius mirrored his smile as he saw the embracing couple on the terrace, he was damn glad that was sorted. Those two had been arguing silently for too long, and his ear had been thoroughly worn by James. His smile widened as Beatrice reached up to weave purple flowers in his hair. It had been far too many weeks since _they_ were last together. Technically they shouldn't be now, but the bushes had looked inviting and she was right there.

"I'm leaving," she said, patting the last flower into place.

"What?" he barked.

"I'm not getting married. I'm leaving and coming to live with you in the Hebrides." Beatrice smiled beatifically up at him then bent down to collect more flowers.

"That's funny, cause I'm sure I saw your name next to _his_ in the _Prophet_," said Sirius, feeling confused and slightly too floral.

"You may have done, but I'm coming to live with you," Beatrice said with an air of finality.

"And do what?" Sirius asked, echoing her question from months ago as he tugged a particularly large flower out from his hair.

"Join the Order of the Phoenix."

Sirius dropped the flower a spasm running through his hand in shock. He hadn't said anything to Beatrice about the Order; he'd never even mentioned the word around her. With parents strongly linked to the Death Eaters it was safer if she knew nothing, that way there was no chance of anything bad happening. "How do you know about the Order?" he asked with difficulty.

"Mother talks," Beatrice said, picking up the dropped flower gently. "You-know-who's forces have known about it for ages. This _is_ happening, Sirius. You can act like a love-struck fool now. Sirius?"

Sirius was hardly listening. A welter of thoughts were running through his mind, so fast that he could barely keep up with them. Confusion, simplicity, dark lords and flowers. Sirius had no idea what to think, and certainly no idea how to express himself. The image before him cut through all the tumult of emotion: Beatrice, looking radiant in her pale blue dress, the purple flowers all around her highlighting her dark beauty. Breaking into an enormous grin, Sirius laughed loudly, took her by the waist and lifted her spinning round and round with joy. It was all over, she was his at last!

"How long?" he asked between fervent kisses.

"A week, maybe two," Beatrice hummed in pleasure and let him sweep her away from the wedding guests, further into the gardens.

Alice looked around at the world and decided everything was good. James and Lily had made up, Sirius and Beatrice had vanished, Augusta was tipsy enough to not care about improprieties, and she was married to Frank. She sighed in contentment and sank further into her comfortable chair.

He sat down beside her and leaned in saying, "Hello Mrs Longbottom."

"Hello Mr Longbottom," she rejoined, smiling at Frank.

"I've got a surprise for you," Frank said and put something on the table in front of her.

"It's a tiny umbrella," Alice said, putting it up. "Is it to keep tiny people dry?"

Frank laughed and said, "It's a Portkey. To Bermuda."

"Bermuda?" Alice blinked at the tiny red umbrella. "Aren't Portkeys to Bermuda really expensive?"

"I persuaded mother to pay for it. I still don't really know how." Frank looked momentarily confused then brightened as he said, "It's our honeymoon. We're going to Bermuda for two days."

"Really?" said Alice, before throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him. "I love you. When does it leave?"

"You've got enough time to pack."

"Frank?"

"You've got enough time to pack," he repeated calmly.

"Frank."

"Five hours."

"Merlin's beard! That's not enough time to pack!" Alice hurried off, ran back, kissed her husband again, then grabbed Lily and disappeared inside.

Frank sighed and started laughing. He may have married one but he'd never understand women.

XOXOX


	30. Revelations

Chapter Eleven

The moors were cold and wet. The rain that lashed down from low clouds drove every creature to find shelter. In the midst of a circle of stones a man stood hunched under a leather cloak and hood. The stones were once a wall, the foundation for a wood and wattle round house, long since rotten and fallen. Only the few stones outlining the shape, covered by lichen and moss, remained.

The man remembered.

He remembered a house with people in it, a village filled with noise, a dozen homes now lost to time. It had been three thousand years since he had stood in this spot. The memories were distant, but still so real.

He sighed and turned away, peering through the mist to the grey tents that housed his comrades. Dartmoor may have been lost to millennia of climate change and social evolution, but between them the army of elves would take back their world.

XOXOX

In the Minister's office a man, grey-haired and lined, leaned forwards in his chair and solemnly pronounced, "We have lost the West Country."

"Are you sure?" asked the Minister, the dappled daylight highlighting his silvering temples.

"Few of the Intelligence Officers I have sent in have come back , and those who did reported total occupation," said Mr. Crouch, "We should have expected this after the debacle with the Le Fay's. An escape from Azkaban..." He trailed off shaking his head sourly.

McNath riffled through the numerous papers provided by Crouch and pulled out a photograph. The background was of a blurred castle, dark birds erupting from one of the towers. In the foreground, ranged in neat rows, were hundreds of tents and armour clad men. "This was taken outside Tintagel, there's an army out there," he said.

"Do we know who they are? Is it You-Know-Who? Or the Le Fay daughter?" The Minister snapped.

Crouch produced a different photograph. In this one a lightly armoured man turned, eyes widening, then drew his sword and headed towards the camera. The image-loop ended with a shot of the sky.

"This was recovered from the body of an operative. I received it ten minutes ago. David?" Crouch passed the photo to the grey-haired man, who nodded and opened a black book that had been sitting innocently on the side.

"Slender build, pointed features, bronze armour, red shades of hair...yes. This confirms what we have been suspecting." David paused and passed the photo to the Minister, holding the book carefully in front of him. "We have searched all other resources and records, and this is the only full description of these people."

"Is that the Ceasteræscas?" interrupted Crouch warily, keeping one eye on the Dark book.

"Yes," David said shortly, before turning back to the Minister. "Sir, I believe these to be Elves."

"Elves?" asked the Minister, thinking of the house elves who kept the Ministry building ticking over, "But these are nothing like elves."

"Not house elves, Sir, ancient elves. They ruled the country in the bronze age. They possibly had some magical properties, like Unicorns or Dragons, but were more noted for their prowess in battle. Sometime in the late bronze age the wizards who were their...slaves, or possibly descendants, rose up and cast them out. They may have been under the leadership of a Le Fay, though that information is not available to us." David McNath scowled at the fact that Crouch's poor handling of the Le Fay situation had led to the library of Tintagel being lost. He would have loved to get his hands on the texts in there. "What is certain is that the last connection between the Elven world and ours resides under Tintagel. Where they are now emerging from."

The Minister nodded, accepting the conclusion the Unspeakable had reached. "And you say they've taken the West Country without a fight?" He turned his wintry gaze on his Head Auror, demanding an explanation.

"There are very few wizards living in Devon, Cornwall, Dorset, and western Somerset. We have had only minimal security forces stationed there," Crouch explained.

"Hmm. What about You-Know-Who? Are these Elves in league with him?" the Minister waved his hand at the collection of papers on the table.

"We don't know," admitted both Heads of Department.

"Well, let's pray they're not," the Minister said, examining the photograph of Tintagel again, "Otherwise, gentlemen, we will be in deep trouble."

XOXOX

The woman stumbled down the dingy road, one arm wrapped around her ribs. Her pace was slow and painful, each step an effort. She paused and peered at a house number through black and swollen eyes, blood oozing from a cut on her lip. Shaking her head slightly she pressed on, muttering the numbers to herself until she reached the middle of the terrace. There she stopped in front of a dilapidated door, pausing to muster the strength to raise her arm.

A series of slow knocks punctuated the dank evening air, and the woman's hand fell limply to her side.

The door was yanked open; a grim scowling man in black robes snapped, "What?"

"Severus," the woman's voice was hardly more than an aching whisper, "It's me. Morrigan."

XOXOX

James opened the door to the house on Fiveways Road and sighed. He'd had a long boring day of paperwork and wanted nothing more than to have a nice bite to eat, sit in his favourite chair and listen to the wireless. The fact that the paperwork was pointless hadn't helped, nor had the continuing reports of Elvish devastation coming out of Somerset. Paperwork, he felt, was the bane of an Auror's existence. Worse than planning meetings, more mind-numbing than stake-outs, and certainly duller than a Death Eater. Give him impossible odds, life or death situations, anything except more paperwork!

Walking into the kitchen and lifting the lid on the stew pot to inhale the heavenly aroma within, James realised something was wrong. There was a noise in the house he didn't recognise. He stuck his head through the basement door to see if it was Remus shoring up his cage – not that he'd been around much lately. Hearing nothing, he went back out into the hallway and tilted his head, trying to identify the source.

It was coming from upstairs.

James trudged upwards, wand in hand as he listened at every door till he reached Lily and his shared bedroom. Now he could identify the sound. It was a muffled half-laughing, half-crying, completely hysterical noise. Cautiously James opened the door to the bedroom. A glimpse of red hair on the other side of the bed, next to their old school trunks, had him sighing in relief and putting away his wand. Walking round he came to a sudden stop – this side of the bed the room was a complete mess. It looked as though Lily had tipped out everything in both their trunks in no particular order and then sat down in the middle.

"Lily?" he questioned the sobbing, giggling redhead.

"Oh! James!" she yelped then burst out laughing again, tear tracks running down her face.

James cleared a space on the bed and sat down, prepared to wait patiently until her fit of laughter had passed. There was a huge variety of stuff on the floor; old robes, dog-eared books, sweets, a couple of unused dungbombs, and a forest (or should that be a herd) of parchment. He bent down and pulled out an envelope of photographs.

Riffling through them one caught his eye. He tugged it free from the rest and grinned at it. It showed four boys about fifteen years old – the Marauders. Sirius had arms thrown around Remus and James's shoulders and occasionally pretended to lick Remus's pale face. Peter stood beside James looking more confident than usual. James remembered this photo being taken. It was the day after full moon and both Sirius and Peter had just found out their Animagus forms. It had been a complex process and Peter had been so chuffed that he'd managed it. _Better times_, James thought with little sigh. Things had certainly changed since then.

He hardly saw Peter these days, and for all Remus was supposed to be living in the same house as him days could go by without them running into each other. The tight knit group of friends had drifted apart.

On the floor Lily had managed to gain control of her hysterics and now waved another photo in James's direction. Plucking it from her hand James looked at the cause of such hilarity and gave a burst of laughter himself.

It was him in the photo, a couple of months after the photo of the four of them, and he was looking impressively sulky. He had a right to be, what with the rack of antlers sprouting from his head. His image tried to walk out of the photo but every time he attempted it a pair of hands pushed him back. He then lowered his head and charged, but the hands caught his antlers and twisted him round until he fell out the bottom of the picture. Shaking his head, James laughed at his photo-self.

"When did that happen?" Lily asked, striving for calm. "I'm sure I never cursed you with them."

"You didn't, erm," James ran a hand through his messy hair and decided to tell the truth, or at least his part of it. "It was fourth year and I was, ah, learning the Animagus transformation. I get stuck with those for three days."

"You became an Animagus in fourth year?" Lily asked, shocked and a little jealous that James-the-troublemaker had completed such a complicated piece of magic when she hadn't even attempted it.

"Fifth year, actually. Took me a while to get the change back and forth settled." James smiled sheepishly.

"And you're what? A moose?" Lily gestured at the photo, thinking it wasn't so funny anymore. A curse or bad transfiguration was one thing, and a valid reason why he looked so sulky, but for him to have been annoyed about having trouble becoming an Animagus? She mentally snorted.

"A stag, thank you," James replied defensively; he was quite proud of his form.

"A stag?" Lily choked.

"Yes," James frowned at her.

"Well," Lily said, straightening her back and picking up her wand. "I guess that partially explains _this_. _Expecto Patronum!_"

A brilliant white light coursed out of her wand and formed into a graceful, long-legged animal. Lily gazed happily upon it, her thoughts focused as much on her happiest memory as on the creature itself. Raising a hand James reached out in wonder, breathing, "A hind." He executed a little bow to the wonderful female deer, the perfect counterpart to his own stag, and turned to catch Lily in a passionate embrace.

The light grew stronger until it spilled from the windows, making passers-by wonder at it before it enveloped them in love and contentment.

XOXOX

Morrigan woke feeling comfortable and well rested. Her surroundings were not what she'd come to expect and it took her a moment to figure out where she was. All her aches and pains were gone, even her broken ribs were healed. Carefully she rolled out of bed, not quite able to believe this wasn't a dream. As her bare feet hit the cold wooden floor Morrigan knew that she was awake, and that this was real. She found a green dressing gown on the back of the door and padded downstairs, the vague thought of food in her mind.

Severus was standing in the kitchen working at a cauldron, potions ingredients lined up beside him. He'd grown since last she saw him. Morrigan smiled weakly at the image of better times and cleared her throat to attract his attention. He glanced round, gave her a flicker of a smile and pointed at a saucepan resting on a low heat.

"There's porridge in the pan, bowls and glasses in the cupboard," he said.

Nodding even though he'd already turned back to his brew Morrigan opened cupboards and drawers until she found all she needed. She sat at the small table and watched Severus work as she ate, thoughts drifting through her mind. His brusque attitude didn't bother her too much, she remembered all too well Severus' way when he was involved with a potion. The first bowl of porridge was followed with a second before Morrigan felt her stomach protest at the unusual amount of food; she would have to retrain her body in so many ways.

After one last stir Severus lowered the flame under the potion, sure that it would not require his attention for seventeen minutes. He poured himself a glass of water and went into his book-lined living room where Morrigan had settled to wait. She was flipping through one of his books on dream-lore, a curious expression on her face.

She looked a lot better than when she had first turned up on his doorstep thirty-six hours ago. Covered in dried blood, wounded beyond belief and utterly exhausted, she had practically collapsed in his arms when he'd opened the door. It had taken him a long time to clean her up and tend to all her wounds. He couldn't treat the malnourishment, but the broken bones and scar tissue had gone the way of the dodo. She now had the air of fragile porcelain; if dropped she would shatter irrevocably.

He sat down, and she looked up with a smile to say, "I didn't know you were interested in dream-lore."

"It's a new fascination," Severus said easily. "How are you feeling?"

"Worlds better. Thank you," Morrigan said, putting down the book.

"If I may ask, why didn't you heal yourself?" he questioned curiously.

Morrigan fiddled uneasily with the hem of her borrowed dressing gown before admitting, "I lost all my magic. I know why. Y'see I had a lot of time to- think these past... I don't know how long it's been."

"Two years," said Severus gently, not wanting to rock her state of mind.

"Dear lord, that long?" Morrigan frowned, her focus turning inside as she struggled to accept that fact. A shudder ripped through her thin form, running down her spine. She blinked and refocused on the present world. "Anyway," she said, "I think I know what happened. You have to accept that I didn't realise how much _they_ were influencing me from the very beginning, probably from the moment I was born. Once _they_ were gone from my mind though, I was able to think, really think for myself."

"I'm sorry, 'they'?" Severus asked. He thought he knew the answer but in this instance it was better to be sure.

"The elves," Morrigan said through gritted teeth, the name of her tormentor floating through her mind only to be violently rejected. That way lay terror, confusion and collapse. She would not go there.

Severus nodded, his observational skills combined with what he had learnt in his dreams allowing him to read more than her words could say. He gestured her on, her need to talk mirroring his desire to know.

"_They_ wanted me to open the Door. I didn't. Me. _I didn't want to,_" she emphasised. "But they were inside my head, making me think it was my desire, my want, that it was the right thing to do. I should have fought more, but-"

"You didn't know how or even that they were there to be fought."

"Yes," Morrigan smiled, her eyes lighting with the knowledge that someone understood her. It was brilliant.

Severus smiled a little himself, reassuring her that all was well and that she was safe. He'd seen what the woman before him had been through, and though years of bullying could never compare to torture he could begin to understand the effects it would have had – would still be having. He had the responsibility not just as a Seer but as a friend to help her, support her and try, in his own way, to get her through this experience intact. To know that she had been controlled by others, her actions not her own, it explained a lot but would be hard to deal with.

"What of your magic?" he asked.

"I think two things happened when the Doors opened. Tintagel was built, created, to keep _them_ out, to keep the Doors shut. Its whole structure, its whole personality is such that it will protect the rest of the world against them."

"The mist."

"It bounded the castle, the peninsula, and removed it from this world, removing everything elvish from this world. At the same time it was in me, Tintagel's magic was a part of me and it did the same thing. It removed everything elvish from me. The voices, the magic, all those attributes: gone. Its power was so strong it burnt me out," Morrigan shrugged. "There's nothing left. I have no magic."

She didn't look angry or grief-stricken by her statement, but the way her hands shook slightly and how she was sitting poised in her chair ready to run told Severus that the hurt went deep. Deep enough to be suppressed, locked away in her mind where it wouldn't damage – not yet. It could stay there for week, years, decades, but eventually it would re-emerge in strange ways, destroying the person. Pain was like that.

Severus pressed her hand and went to check on his potion, giving her a little space. Talking would be helping, yet it also stirred the melting pot of emotions. The way he saw it was that dealing with Morrigan would be like taking care of an unstable potion – too much of anything would cause a meltdown, and not enough wouldn't change instability to stability. Tricky.

When he returned a question had occurred to him.

"Was it Tintagel that sent us home?"

"What do you mean?" Morrigan asked, looking puzzled.

"The Doors opened, I blacked out and awoke in my parents house," his father had been less than pleased to find Severus home. "I apparated to Hogwarts and later discovered that the same thing had happened to the Gryffindors."

"I-" Morrigan pulled her feet up into the chair's embrace and balanced her chin in her hand, frowning as she thought. "I suppose it activated the homecoming spell: the one I used to get us to T-Tintagel. It would have protected us by sending us home – or rather the place where we'd lived the longest."

"That explains why Black was sent to _his_ parents," Severus smirked cruelly, then added unthinkingly, "It didn't do you much good though."

Morrigan flinched, shifted position in her chair and said in a small defensive voice, "I escaped," she lifted her eyes to meet Severus's and spoke again, more boldly with a hint of egotism. "I escaped. They put me in a top tower. After a while. Then the moon rose. I used to be an Animagus. Did you know the Animagus transformation is linked to the moon?"

"I did." There had been an essay on that in seventh year.

"Without the control I became a were-creature."

"And what kind of were-creature did you become?" Severus asked a little indulgently.

"A raven."

"Very useful for flying out of towers."

"Yeah," Morrigan followed the pattern on the rug with her eyes as her enthusiasm over her achievement waned and despondency crept in. "I have nowhere to go."

Severus wasn't one for pity normally. However, the young woman in front of him was bereft of everything and everyone she'd known, of the power that had defined her life. Even if he wasn't bound to help her, her sunken look and dire need would have been hard for even him to turn his back on. She needed someone to rely on now, and if he was honest with himself Severus would appreciate the company. Death Eaters aside, he had few friends and fewer that he could be truly open with. Knowing no one Morrigan was the perfect secret keeper.

"You don't need anywhere else to go," he said, and as Morrigan looked up, hope in her eyes, he nodded. She could stay.

XoxoX

Severus spent the rest of the day catching Morrigan up on news. He told her what he knew of her Gryffindor friends: occupations, weddings, living arrangements. He also explained the state of the war and tried to make it clear why he'd chosen the Dark Lord's side. Morrigan hadn't been too happy about the mark on his arm; she blamed Lord Voldemort for her mother's death, saying, 'If he hadn't encouraged her, she would never have been there for the Aurors to kill'. Severus didn't try to talk her out of that belief; not only was she incredibly stubborn on the topic, he felt he knew a little about misplaced blame. He then told her about the changes that the last four days had brought to their plans and how the Dark Lord was seeking to negotiate with the elves. At this she laughed.

"They don't negotiate, they destroy. They'll wipe him out."

"Surely talking is better than war?"

"They don't care what he had to say. They want revenge, Severus. Unless he's willing to bend his knee, hand over his wand and agree to all their terms, they will kill him. And everyone who stands against them. If you're not useful, you're dead."

Severus had turned away then, biting back harsh words about how it was her fault. If what she had said about the elves controlling her was true, and he could see no reason for her to lie to him, then it wasn't truly her fault. Besides, what she had told him tallied with what he had seen in his dreams.

Though Morrigan clearly enjoyed being able to talk to someone and hearing news, Severus could see that physically her confinement had taken its toll. She couldn't eat even half the amount she should, used chairs and surfaces as balancing aids when she moved around, and he spotted her napping several times during the day.

During one of her 'I'm not sleeping, just resting my eyes' moments, Severus quietly got up and pulled his small iron cauldron out. He quickly gathered ingredients and set to work. There were a number of potions which helped with the recovery from long term illnesses, and with a few tweaks he was sure he could provide Morrigan with something to help her convalesce.

It was finished late in the evening, after a simple white fish dinner. Morrigan was visibly flagging by that time and he ordered her off to bed. When he brought her the potion she was curled under his warm eiderdown looking pathetically sleepy. He handed her the glass and she drank it quickly, not even asking what was in it – not something Severus would have done even if he totally trusted the bearer. He took the glass back, but as he turned to leave her hand shot out to grab his wrist. Severus flicked a glance between it and her and she let go with a slightly apologetic expression.

"I don't want to be alone," she said in a rush, the hitch in her voice causing her to wince.

"I will be downstairs," he assured her. His words didn't appear to have the effect he wanted, for though she nodded and smiled, her eyes grew watery.

Severus sighed and heard in his mind again the plea from Maeve – her mother – 'Help her, Severus.'

Under his breath he cursed annoying dead women, then Severus acquiesced and stayed, sinking into the mattress as he sat down beside Morrigan. She shuffled over and turned to face him gratefully, one hand resting on his arm to make sure he was really there. He'd sit here for five minutes he decided, just until she was asleep. Her breathing slowed gradually and Severus unconsciously matched it breath for breath as she drifted off. He still had things to do, but sitting still with the soft sounds in his ears they suddenly didn't seem so important. Maybe a short nap wouldn't do any harm...

The gentle snores coming from the bedroom of the house on the terrace caused the wandering fly to buzz into the room, and soon there was a high pitched whine as he too was caught in the arms of Morpheus.


	31. Dead Elm, Live Elf

**WARNING: Chapter contains scenes of a violent nature. Not suitable for those with weak stomachs. Now read on.**

Chapter Twelve

There was a light halfway up the tor in a dip, and from a distance the hiss of hot metal and the rasp of the hone over blades could be heard. In the forge local Cornish tin was melted, refined and mixed with pure copper. The glowing liquid was like molten fire as it was poured into hard clay moulds. Within minutes the metal had cooled and the clay cracked open to reveal the bronze cast within.

The Smith looked up briefly as the King wandered into the glowing forge, before the change in a tapping rhythm called him back to admonish his apprentice. "Steady lad."

The boy seated on the floor flushed and paid greater attention to where he was hitting the clay mould with his small stone hammer. His was an important job – if he didn't knock the bubbles to the top then the cast would be flawed and useless. Too much tapping and the blade would be uneven, breaking in the finishing process. Eyes down, the boy listened to the cooling metal within the clay, feeling the intense heat dissipate. Getting a nod from the Smith he took the mould and plunged it into a bath of water, sending clouds of steam billowing up.

On the other side of the open space King Lleu watched as blades were cleaned, finished and sharpened ready for hilting. The magic of the Smith in combining the powers of tin and copper in the harmony of bronze played as large a role in any military campaign as the devices of the leaders and tacticians. Although the natural resistance of elves to magic was an excellent advantage, the bronze plated armour that was also turned out by the forge would enhance it to the point where no wizard's spell would stop them. At least that was the hope. Lleu frowned, they had encountered relatively few wizards in their conquest of the West Country. The first real test of the forging would come at Bath.

He picked up one of the completed swords admiring the balance and tone. Though no sword would match his, these were good blades for an army.

In the sounds of the forge the runner's footsteps were lost, so Lleu was startled, blade ready, when he was tapped on the shoulder.

"Sire! I bear a message from Lord Voldemort."

Quickly he lowered the sword and placed it back with the others as he accepted the message. His eyes scanned the parchment swiftly, the runner waiting patiently for a reply or dismissal. A smile emerged on Lleu's face and work in the forge ceased for an instant as he began to laugh. It was a long clear sound that harmonised with the honing of the bronze.

The runner straightened as the King turned to him and said, "Summon Captain Donn. I will send this _Voldemort_ a message."

XOXOX

Peter watched from bushes just beyond the property line as Beatrice walked out of her house, her younger sister trailing her.

"You can't leave! You're about to get married!" cried Lucy.

Beatrice sighed and turned back, the small suitcase in her hand knocking against her legs. "To a man I've only met twice and who I don't love," she said.

"Love? What's love got to do with it?" asked Lucy, confused by her sister's response. "He's a LeStrange, a Pureblood, a great match!"

Setting down the case on the gravel path, Beatrice put both hands on Lucy's face and looked into those familiar brown eyes. "I hope one day you do understand. I love you. Here." She took of the ruby and diamond ring. "See that this gets back to Rabastan."

Lucy clung to her arm, pleading, "Don't go!"

"I'm sorry," Beatrice extracted herself, picked up the case and headed for the bushes where she could just make out the stocky figure of Peter Pettigrew. Sirius had promised that if he couldn't make it someone would be there to guide her apparation.

Just as she reached the gate her parents, black robed and white masked, apparated in in front of her. Lucy raced past her, pushing open the gate, to hand on her mother's arm. "Beatrice is leaving. She's not going on holiday! She's breaking off the engagement and leaving. She says she doesn't love Rabastan," she said in a rush.

"What's love got to do with it?" Calendula Carr said. Lucy smirked at Beatrice as their mother went on, "And where do you plan on going dear?"

"She's going to that Blood Traitor, Sirius Black," Montrose grunted as both Calendula and Lucy gasped in shock.

"How could you? He is _not_ a nice boy," Calendula said firmly, indignation ripe in her voice.

"And Rabastan is?" muttered Beatrice, looking desperately towards the bushes and Peter.

"He is one of us," Montrose said simply, fingering his wand.

"Leaving to that Black boy, a stain on his family, would be a..." her mother sputtered, trying to find words.

"Fatal decision," grunted Montrose, now pointing his wand at his daughter.

Calendula pulled her younger daughter aside, leaving her husband to deal with Beatrice. She had been singularly unhelpful throughout the entire courting, engagement, and wedding planning process, but for _her_ daughter to do something like this was unthinkable. Maybe Montrose's methods would show their stupid daughter the error of her ways. The idiot girl had even pulled her own wand now, and was looking around for help where none would come. That Black boy hadn't even turned up.

Hidden in the bushes Peter took a step forwards then stopped as he saw a group of men dressed in strange armour march into the garden. He sank back into the shadows – if these were Ministry people he didn't want to get caught. That could lead to uncomfortable questions.

"What fascinating sight. I had no idea humans were such...infighters."

All wands were pulled out now, pointed at the speaker, a man with bright red hair and a scar through his eyebrow. As he smiled at the scene before him Calendula gasped, "Elves!"

Immediately the Captain ordered the attack, and the Death Eaters began to fight. Montrose fired several killing curses, Calendula focusing on incapacitation. Beatrice grabbed her sixteen year old sister and blasted away at any elves who came close. Spells flew across the garden, but not a single elf fell. Not even those hit by Montrose's shouted Dark Arts spells stumbled. They marched on, surrounding the family.

Beatrice saw an opening in the wall of elves and, a guilty pain in her chest, abandoned her sister and ran for the tree line, only to be caught by the Captain mere paces from Peter and the boundary of the anti-apparation wards. Peter's face went pale as she looked him in the eye, shaking as he squeezed back further into the bushes, praying not to be seen by the elves. The Captain threw Beatrice at one of the other soldiers and plucked her wand from her hand. She struggled with it for a moment, holding on with both hands, but it was no use. As he closed his fist around it there was a fizz, a pop, and the wand exploded. Beatrice gave a cry of despair.

"No other humans on the property, Sir," said a solider who emerged from the house.

"Good."

"There's a dead Elm tree at the back of the house, Captain Donn," the solider added with a feral grin.

"Doubly good." Captain Donn nodded. He waved his hand at the captives, the other three wands handed to him for destruction as he did. "Take them to it."

The Carr family were dragged, screaming and cursing, to the tree in the back garden where Lucy burst into tears. There four ropes were thrown over the leafless branches, nooses already ready as they dangled in the light wind.

"You can't do this do us!" Montrose yelled, "Our Lord will kill you for this!"

"Your Lord's proposition has been read by the King and rejected. _This_ is his response. I'm sure you'll let your Lord Voldemort know." Captain Donn smirked and flicked his fingers. The soldiers holding the humans pulled each one of them under a rope.

Beatrice kicked out, ramming her elbow into the nose of one soldier holding her and half-turning to knee the other in the groin. She then ran, as fast as she could, but not fast enough. Between her and freedom a line of elves stood, and as quickly as she evaded them they were faster. Before long she was recaptured, a fist to the face making her woozy, and dragged in front of Captain Donn.

"Feisty," Donn commented.

"I'm not with dem," she said through blood and a the pain of a broken nose, "I was trying to leave."

"Perhaps you should have left earlier," said Donn in mock-sympathy.

Fighting every inch of the way, Beatrice was lined up with her family, the nooses placed around their necks. Donn watched dispassionately as he gave the order and they were hoisted off the ground to swing, kicking, hands clawing at the ropes. Within a few short minutes their struggles had stopped, their lips blue. Captain Donn walked away.

XoXoX

It was much later, after he was sure they were gone, that Peter sneaked out of the bushes and slid round the house. His hand covered his mouth as he saw the Elm tree before him, and he didn't fight his nausea for long.

With the acrid smell of bile in his throat, Peter crept shaking towards the tree. It was a foul sight, and one he desperately wanted to run far away from. He knew that the right thing to do was get them down, and give them a little dignity. Cut the rope, easy enough. He took another step forward and swayed to a halt. He couldn't do it. The smell of death was overpowering and the thought of going any closer made his stomach churn again.

"I'm sorry," Peter muttered, "I'm so sorry."

He turned and ran, back round the house and beyond the apparation boundary. There were two people who needed to know about this, and he knew which one he would be going to first.

XOXOX

The roar of Sirius's flying motorbike rent the air even as James ran across the lawn. He reached the bike shed just in time to see the rear lights lifting off the ground. Cursing, James kicked over a bucket and scowled at his vanishing friend.

"James?" Lily's voice floated over to him and he plodded back to the house. Once inside he tucked her under his arm and kissed her on the head. There were no tears yet but the tautness of her face told of her battle with grief.

"Gone?" questioned Remus as they re-entered the living room. James nodded, and Remus went on, saying, "He's probably just gone to burn off some steam."

"Yeah. Probably," James agreed, thinking about all the stupid things he'd done when his mother died. Sirius was at least as crazy as he'd been then, and he'd had a wild look in his eyes when Peter had stuttered out what happened. James just hoped he wouldn't do anything too foolish – like flying to Tintagel to beat up some elves.

"I can't believe she's...dead," Lily muttered, "She was _leaving_ tonight."

James pulled her close, letting her know he was there for her. He couldn't help thinking: 'what if she'd left yesterday...'

"What I'd like to know is how her parents knew she was leaving," said the sandy-haired werewolf sitting in the armchair next to the fire. "Peter?"

The stocky man fumbled with his glass, twitching from foot to foot as he asked in a high-pitched stutter, "W-what? H-how could I k-know anything about-"

"You were there," James cut in, using a soothing tone. Peter had been awfully anxious lately, but they'd all been on edge since the elves emerged.

"Oh. Yes. I suppose I was." Peter calmly slightly. For a moment he'd thought Remus knew _everything_; his betrayal of the Order, being forced to tell every bit of information, going to the Dark Lord first. He pulled himself together, Remus knew nothing about him, he was safe. Casting his mind back, and trying to ignore the lurch in his stomach, Peter thought over the senior Carrs' actions. "They didn't say anything about it, but they weren't surprised to see her either."

"More evidence of a traitor in our midst," James said, scowling.

"Do we have to talk about this now?" Lily said, putting a hand to her mouth, trying to hold the sobs in. "She's- I can't-"

James pulled her to her feet and, with a nod to the others, led her from the room. "Let's get you a calming draught, or maybe a big box of tissues," he said, trying for a teasing tone and failing. Everything he'd heard tonight had sucked the humour out of him. No one should have to die that way.

XOXOX

**Thank you for your continuing opinions, they are much appreciated.**


	32. Attack at Bath

Chapter Thirteen

The elven King, his thick red hair moving slightly in the breeze, stood upon a hill and looked over the small city of Bath. The ancient hot spring which welled from the ground here, filling the air with a faintly sulphurous odour, had been venerated even in his time. Offerings had been thrown in to the goddess, people had drunk the waters to be cured of all ills. The traditions had outlasted the elves it seemed, outlasted all invaders and settlers, for now a great many people lived, worked and died in the place once known by the goddess Sulis' name. Lleu smiled, soon the place would belong to the elves again, for in between him and this hills of Bath were two thousand men ready and willing to fight.

"The men await your orders my liege," Captain Donn said from his position beside the King.

"Take the city. Destroy all wands and kill those who resist," Lleu ordered.

"Yes my liege." The Captain saluted then hesitated until King Lleu raised a curious eyebrow. "What of the non-magic folk?"

"They cannot see us, touch us or hear us," Lleu said, "Leave them. For now."

Captain Donn saluted again and marched down the hill to his waiting troops. Raising his voice he gave the orders and the small army of elves set off to Bath.

XoxoX

Frank hurried up the stairs of their town house on the Royal Crescent and gently, but urgently, shook Alice awake. She had not long fallen asleep and so was not best pleased to be woken, scowling as she asked what the matter was.

"They've come. We have to leave," he said, pulling the covers back and pushing her wand into her hand.

"Death Eaters?" she questioned, hurrying into a set of robes.

"Elves," Frank said grimly.

Together they ran out onto the curving road and looked out over the hills of Bath. Down by the river and in the centre of the city flashes of light spoke of the few Bath-resident wizards fighting the intruders. From the south came the steady tramp-tramp of booted elvish feet.

Alice grabbed her husband's arm and waved at the other tall houses lining the road, "We have to get the others out. The Derwents, the Caudwells."

Frank nodded and took off across the open green that lay, semicircular, in the centre of the road.

The first house was in darkness as he approached. Knocking on the door and energetically ringing the bell, Frank sighed in relief as the light inside flicked on and he heard the annoyed muttering of his wizardly neighbour. The door opened and Frank spoke quickly, cutting off the 'do-you-know-what-time-it-is' rant.

"Sylvester. It's the elves, they're taking the city. Are your kids here? Wake Annabelle! Get them to the Ministry. Damn the floo's still out, apparate them. Quickly!"

The dark-haired man gaped in momentary confusion then nodded and rushed back inside. Frank moved on, there were eight wizarding households in the Royal Crescent and all of them needed to be warned.

He practically leapt over the series of low walls separating one house from the next, and hammered of the door of Mr. Medlow. The flashing lights of defending wizards had gone out and the marching elves were across the river. No one was answering the door so Frank opened it with a flick of his wand and took the stairs quickly up to the bedroom.

Mr. Medlow was just getting into his dressing gown when Frank burst into the room. But that didn't stop the old wizard from levelling his wand speedily at the intruder.

Frank held up his hands and said, "It's me Mr. Medlow. Frank Longbottom. The Auror from number six. There's elves in the city, you need to apparate out. Go to the Ministry."

"Elves? Elves? There's no such thing as elves, boy. In my day-" Mr Medlow waved a finger threateningly.

"I'm sure things were much better in your day, sir. But now it's today and we need to go." Frank hustled the protesting man down the stairs and out his front door, silently cursing the builder of the Crescent who'd thought putting anti-apparation charms in the mortar was a wonderful idea.

As soon as she saw him, Alice came hurrying over from a small group of people, "Frank, there aren't enough adults to apparate all the kids and the floo network's definitely still down."

Frank rubbed his unshaven chin and looked at the old wizard grumbling beside him. Then he pointed at the group of people and said sharply, "Mr. Medlow, go and apparate at least one of those children to the Ministry. That's an order."

"I don't see why I should take orders from you, boy," Medlow protested, drawing himself up.

"Frank, they're coming up from the Circus," Alice's urgent tone cut through the budding argument. Her husband turned to look at the road leading from the Circus roundabout. The first glints of streetlights on bronze were easy to spot from their hillside vantage.

Frank glared at Medlow. "Go! Alice and I will hold them off as long as possible."

Wands drawn, the Longbottoms raced to where the semicircle of road turned a corner and headed down the hill. Coming up from the tree covered Circus were a hundred elves, their swords glinting in the lamp light. Alice took Frank's hand and squeezed it, and he paused for a moment to exchange a loving look with her, then they moved into duelling stances; the fight was on.

They fired stunners in union, perfectly aimed. The red light splattered over their target's breastplates but the elves didn't fall. Harder spells were fired, then low-level tripping jinxes. Nothing effected the oncoming army, no cuts appeared, no stumbling. They were almost up the hill now, another minute and Alice would be amongst them. Frank cursed and stepped out into the centre of the road waving his wand in great circles. A wind rose, spiralling out from where he stood it spun in a howling vortex towards the elves. Dust and debris was caught up in the spiralling winds as they rushed towards the elven lines. Alice ducked, flattening herself to the ground as they roared overheard.

Men crumpled as the wind hit, thrown in the air like rag dolls only to come crashing down to the ground. The first few lines were all storm tossed, but at the back of the hundred elves fell to the ground and waited as the vortex flew overheard to gradually peter out into nothing. Frank breathed a sigh of relief, but his smile was halted in its tracks as most of those elves who had been taken out by his wind spell lifted themselves off the ground to take up their swords once more.

Alice rushed to his side as the elves closed around them, conjuring Beaters bats for the pair. If spells wouldn't work on these fiends maybe physical violence would. She gave a wild yell and hit out, catching a solider on the arm. There was a solid crack and he staggered slightly. She swung again and the elf ducked, sending his sword towards her midriff. There was a pleasant _thunk_ as Frank's bat came down on his head, knocking him out.

Again and again Frank and Alice hit out, sending elves flying, but more kept coming. Behind them the steady _crack, crack_ of disapparation signalled the moves to safety of their fellow wizards. Frank took his bat in a wide circle, allowing him to see how much longer they had to hold out. His eye was caught, not by the wizards, but by a second contingent of elves making their way over the grass towards them. He swore loudly and missed deflecting the blade of an elf. The bronze weapon sliced into his arm causing him to cry out. They couldn't hold much longer.

"Longbottom! I'm the last! Get out of there!" The welcome yell from a wizard was followed quickly by his crack of disapparation.

"Alice!" Frank yelled over the war-cries of the elves.

"Go!" She yelled back, and with a loud _crack_ they both vanished.

XoxoX

Comfortably lounging on the side of the ancient pool, King Lleu trailed him fingers in the waters of Sulis. He awaited the news that the last of the wizards had been captured or killed, only then could he ask the goddess for her blessing. Already he had his message prepared, engraved on the finest gold and folded ready to be cast into the waters. With Sulis' blessing the campaign would go well and the rest of the army could march with all speed from Tintagel.

A shadow detached itself from the wavering light, showing itself to be Captain Donn. He saluted to his King, the awe at being in the Shrine of Sulis showing on his face. Lleu nodded for him to report.

"The city is ours, my lord. We have taken twenty-eight captives, though a number of wizards escaped in the north of the city. We also have wounded but they are being seen to."

"Very good. Send the prisoners to Exeter and take Bristol. I will be returning to Tintagel to lead the army from there. You know where we are heading, I expect you to send out messengers once you have taken Bristol."

"Yes, my lord. I shall order your guard readied." Captain Donn saluted and, with a lingering look at the waters, left the temple.

King Lleu smiled; today Bath, tomorrow Britain.

XOXOX

Alone in the main hall, Lord Voldemort sat slumped like a sulking child. Things had not been going as planned. It had been such a simple idea: gather followers to help remove the infection of Mudbloods in society whilst highlighting the ineptitude of the Ministry so it would topple quickly and easily. Once it fell he could take command, a position from which the sterilization could proceed more efficiently. But the Ministry hadn't played fair – they'd fought back!

He'd considered his options then, and gone out and found allies. The best of which had come to him. Maeve Le Fay. Voldemort sighed and moved his head to his other hand. She had been so good at cheering him up and was as subtle as the best Slytherins in getting what she wanted. He didn't miss her, of course, that sort of feeling was of Dumbledore's ilk and had no power over him. She was damned useful though. He blamed the Ministry entirely for her death; if they hadn't sent her daughter to Azkaban or fought back in the first place! Two years dead now. And Voldemort had a whole new range of problems to deal with.

Elves. He'd thought them a myth. Clearly that was not the case. The map on the wall in front of him revealed exactly what a problem they were being. The whole of Cornwall, Devon and Somerset were controlled by them, Bath and Bristol too. They were taking over far too fast.

He'd tried sending an envoy, but the response he'd received... Perhaps he'd been a little hard on Pettigrew. Using the Cruciatus Curse to make his followers fear him was all well and good, but even Voldemort understood that torturing the messenger wouldn't change the message. So the Carrs were dead and the elves were against him. He'd have to abandon his plans in their entirety. Voldemort scowled and wished there was someone around he could curse. He had no choice, and Voldemort hated having no choice. Fighting the elves was the only course of action, after all there was no good ruling the Ministry if the Ministry ceased to exist.

"Lucius!" he yelled, the thin daub walls hardly soundproof.

"Yes, my lord?" Lucius said, opening the door and sketching a small bow.

Voldemort waved his hand at the map. "You live somewhere in Wiltshire don't you?"

"Yes my lord."

Voldemort waited for a more expansive answer, but lost his patience within a few seconds. "North or south of the Ridgeway, Lucius? Details!"

"North, my lord. Just outside of Cirencester. Technically we are in Gloucester but the border runs through our unplottable-"

"Very nice." Voldemort smiled in a placating manner without really meaning it. "The elves have taken Bath _and _Bristol, so they must be heading north. Do you agree?"

Lucius came fully into the room so that he wouldn't have to turn his back on Lord Voldemort while looking at the map. He wasn't taking any chances. "That would seem most logical, my lord. If they were heading for London they surely would be marching over Salisbury Plain through Hampshire and Surrey. For them to have taken Bristol does suggest a northern movement, and...my house is right in the way." Lucius swallowed and his brow furrowed. He hadn't had a chance to realise it before now, but if the elves were marching north then there was a very high chance they'd take Malfoy Manor. Lucius suddenly had a very strong urge to apparate home and get Narcissa out of the country.

"Yes, it is," said Voldemort, oblivious to Malfoy's inner turmoil. "This provides us with an opportunity."

"An opportunity?" asked Lucius, not allowing a trace of emotion into his voice.

"We will fortify your home. Take whoever you need. If the elves mean to fight us, they shall not find us wanting." Voldemort smiled widely, his red eyes glinting fiercely. The elves would not take his victory from him, no matter how fast they travelled. The Ministry and Britain would be his.

"Yes, my lord." Lucius bowed and walked out, his boot heels snapping smartly, a smile of his own hidden under layers of arrogance. He had permission to defend his home, and defend it he would.

XOXOX

When Severus returned home from work he found Morrigan sitting out the back in his practically non-existent garden. It was a beautiful, blue-skied day with only the vapour trails of planes breaking up the wall-to-wall sunshine. Severus scowled at the sky and sat down next to his house guest. From somewhere Morrigan had acquired a pair of sunglasses which she was putting to good use as she sat soaking in the light and warmth. Things had been going well, since that first day she had grown in confidence and strength, and now Severus felt able to consider broaching a difficult topic. It was necessary considering the events of the last few days.

"Do you like it?" Morrigan asked, before he could find a way to begin.

"What?" Severus replied, startled.

"My hair. I've chopped off three-quarters of it." She ran her hand through the short locks that were left.

"When did you do that?" Severus said, seeing that, yes, she had cut her hair, though how this was important bypassed him.

"This morning. I thought it was time for a change," she said shaking her head. She still wasn't accustomed to the change in weight – all that hair had been surprisingly heavy. It felt better though; when she had taken the scissors to it Morrigan had imagined that she was cutting away everything that the past two years had held. In the end it had been a cathartic experience.

"It's – very nice," Severus said, unsure how to comment on hair.

Morrigan smiled and closed her eyes as she leant back asking, "How was your day?"

"Fine until someone dropped a packet of Moonglove seeds. You can't gather them using magic and they'd gone everywhere. Stupid clumsy oaf shouldn't be allowed _near_ a Potion's lab." Severus scowled fiercely.

Morrigan laughed through her nose, a smile on her face. For the first time in years she felt relaxed. The sun was wonderful and she could reside in the moment. A car backfiring brought her head off the wall to scowl in its direction. Stupid interruptions to her relaxation. She leaned back again and only made a questioning 'mm?' when Severus said her name.

"You probably know more about _them_ than anyone else don't you?"

"Probably," she submitted, keeping her eyes closed.

"That information could be useful to the right people. For instance those fighting _them_."

"I imagine so."

"Do you think you ought to tell them what you know?" Severus raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

Morrigan opened her eyes to look at him, saying reluctantly, "I suppose I ought to."

"The Ministry probably wouldn't listen to you though. More likely to lock you up again." Severus dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand.

Not really fooled by his attitude, Morrigan pulled in her legs to cross them, leaning her hand on a planted arm. Even more reluctantly than before she sighed, "You said Voldemort is fighting them."

"Yes." Severus feigned surprise at the idea.

"You're trying to manoeuvre me into a meeting," Morrigan accused.

Severus leant forwards and caught her eye behind the smoky glasses. "The facts remain the same no matter my motivation."

XOXOX

**Please remember to review, I will happily reply to all.**


	33. On the way to war

**A/N: Okay so this has nothing to do with the story. Skip it if you like. But oh! Did anyone see the latest episode of Merlin! OMG! Love it! **

**Now that I've had my teenaged moment we will continue with our usual transmission.**

**Oh and if anyone can guess which program I've half-stolen 'Agent' from you will win a prize.**

**Please review**

Chapter Fourteen

It was night, which made it easier to see the invading army encamped thirty miles away. Their beacons could be seen even in the patchwork of streetlight, the encampment placed over the top of one of the rolling downs of England. Lucius paced uneasily outside his home, a simple disillusion charm hiding him from the watchers inside the house. Forty Death Eaters, a third of the total available force, slept within, waiting for dawn and the march of the elves. Eight acted as sentries, ready to wake the others at the first sign of trouble.

Lucius couldn't sleep, the idea of his unplottable home being found and burnt to the ground, everyone dead as the army marched on, kept surfacing in his mind whenever he closed his eyes. Instead he paced up and down in front of the neatly clipped hedge, eyes rarely leaving the quiet encampment. He estimated there were seven hundred of them from the fire lights. Hundred of elves, possibly a thousand. Forty-eight Death Eaters, fifty counting himself and Narcissa, suddenly didn't seem enough.

Dawn came without a fanfare or gong, though the raucous birdsong made Lucius wonder how he normally slept through it. From the camp there was a flurry of movement as fires were roused for breakfast and tents struck. Within an hour they'd be on the move. Dismissing the illusion Lucius strode inside to rouse the sentries to action and wake the troops. He would have them in position before the elves arrived.

Two hours later and he was standing with his arms crossed feeling confused and a little put out. The elves had vanished, melting away into the morning mist before a single spell could be thrown. Lucius had watched as they'd marched in formation into the valley between where they'd camped and his house. He'd watched as the mist enveloped them, and he'd watched as they completely failed to emerge out the other side.

Lucius was, quite frankly, in two minds as to what he should be feeling. On the one hand he wasn't fighting a battle and his beautiful home was wonderfully intact. On the other, Lord Voldemort had been counting on this encounter to test the mettle of the enemy. His mood was not being helped by Bellatrix's smug expectancy beside him.

"Perhaps, Lucius, that was merely the vanguard," suggested Nott from his other side.

Lucius seized on this thought gratefully. "The vanguard, yes, that seems likely. Such a small group, unworthy of our attentions," He gritted his teeth against Bellatrix's snort. "We shall wait."

They waited. They waited for three days and this time they didn't miss the army. The sound of marching men, metal clanking, voices raised in chants, and below it all the steady earth-shaking pounding of thousands of feet. Standing arrayed outside the boundaries of Malfoy Manor the collected Death Eaters looked on in horror as the elves went past - and kept going past. Lucius blanched as white as his mask, his hand tightening on his wand convulsively.

"Should," Nott paused to clear the terror from his throat, "Should we attack them?"

"Suicide," came a murmur from behind him.

"The Dark Lord would want us to," bristled Bellatrix, ready to defend her master's decision.

"They don't seem to be coming this way," offered Avery.

"No, they don't," said Lucius, a little hesitantly.

"Does-" Avery licked his lips nervously, "Does this mean the Dark Lord was wrong?"

"The Dark Lord is never wrong!" screeched Bellatrix, turning on Avery, wand ready.

Lucius grabbed her arm and glowered at her, before sending her stumbling backwards. This was, in many ways, a total disaster. No one ever told the Dark Lord he was wrong, or even hinted that a decision of his was flawed, not if they didn't want to become the next 'tester' for new spells and potions. Lucius had to come up with a plan quickly, and he had to get the six inner circle members to agree to stick to it. Though Crabbe and Goyle would be easily convinced of anything, the others wouldn't be.

"Does this mean they're not going up into the heart of England?" asked Nott gently.

"It doesn't look like it," muttered Avery, "If I were them I'd take the valleys to the Thames and follow that into the centre of London."

"That would be a good plan," admitted Nott calmly, "Except for one fact."

"What?"

"There's thousands of revenge-bent elves doing that!" Nott almost yelled as he waved wildly at the fiery army.

The light had caught their varying shades of red hair and bronze armour, making it look like smokeless fire was creeping across the land.

"Quiet," ordered Lucius sharply. He gestured the two men to step away from the rest of the Death Eaters, dragged Bellatrix along as he joined them. Enclosing one fist inside his other hand he put forward his idea quietly. "The Manor is unplottable, perhaps the elves couldn't see it – or us."

Avery and Nott exchanged a look while Bellatrix sulked, rubbing her arm. Nott shifted so his back was to the other Death Eaters bounded by the figures of Crabbe on one side and Goyle on the other. He asked quietly, "They haven't run across any other unplottable properties have they?"

"Not that _I'm_ aware of," Lucius said, relaxing a touch as the other Slytherins caught on to his train of thought.

"Not that the Dark Lord's aware of?" Nott pressed.

Lucius and the other men frowned, thinking hard. Had any of them heard anyone mentioning unplottable land to the Dark Lord in connection with the elves? Was there any major property south of Malfoy Manor that required that level of magical protection?

"You fools," sneered Bellatrix, drawing their attention. "They've only taken the South West. There's barely any wizards worth mentioning, and certainly nothing unplottable."

Allowing a flicker of a smile, Lucius put on a sorrowful face and said, "It appears my assumption is correct. The Dark Lord had no way to know that the elves, while seeing through illusions and other disguises, cannot locate an unplottable property. Therefore there is no fault or blame attached to the lack of battle these last days." His eyes flicked between the other intelligent inner circle members. Bellatrix looked smug and superior but Lucius detected the necessary hint of acquiescence in her hard blue eyes. Avery nodded, trying to match Malfoy's appearance of sadness at the lack of a fight.

"That seems reasonable," said Nott, agreeing with the plan. "What about them?" he added, waving a small thumb at the Death Eaters behind him.

"I'll see to them," Bellatrix hissed, stalking off.

The men watched her go, each repressing a shudder of fear and disgust. Her black robes did nothing to hide her cock-eyed walk and the way she held her wand was enough to shake even the most stalwart Auror. Nott glanced at Lucius seeing if he could catch the other man praying that the Black madness had skipped his wife and wouldn't turn up in his kids. For a split second he saw the white masks and robes of his comrades for what they were – façades of fear – and wondered if they all weren't a little mad.

XOXOX

Frank and Alice Longbottom sat in the anteroom to the Minister's Office and tried not to listen to the argument within. They tried focussing on the décor – a red and gold velveteen wallpaper – which accentuated the narrowness of the room, or to strike up a conversation with the neatly typing Miss Pennyworth. She had answered in clipped tones which hurried the exchange to a rapid end. Finally the argument became so loud that it was impossible to ignore.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THOUSANDS?"

"...must...Minister."

"CALM? CALM?"

"May not...seems..."

"...unprepared...destruction...elves..."

"SEND OUT THE AURORS! ALL OF THEM! I'M NOT GOING TO SIT BACK AND - "

"...impractical...not well...change..."

"NOT WELL? NOT WELL!You've been in office for five years, Crouch, and in that time a Dark Lord has risen, our services have been ruined: we still don't have a working floo network! And now half the country is over-run by mythical elves and you say things are not going well?"

"Minister...lack of information...Barty's not to blame...important points...let me bring in..."

"Fine."

The dark door opened and David McNath, Head Unspeakable, stepped through. "Mr and Mrs Longbottom? The Minister will see you now." He ushered them through into the office and offered them a seat opposite Mr. Crouch, who was looking a little pale, his fingers twitching on the edge of a folder. The Minister sat at the head of the table drumming impatiently on the arm of his chair.

McNath sat down and introduced the Aurors, "Minister, these are the Aurors who held back the elves at Bath, allowing twenty-two people to escape. They have had first hand contact and can give us an idea of how we can combat these invaders."

The Minister nodded and said surprisingly calmly, "Mr Longbottom, Mrs Longbottom, thank you for placing yourselves in such danger, I welcome any input you can provide."

Frank muttered something about duty and at the urging of McNath went on to describe that night in Bath four days ago. Alice occasionally added a few comments quietly, but her attention was constantly drawn away by the fifth man in the room. He was sitting in the corner smoking a thin cigarette in long drags. Dressed in dark tight fitting clothes he blended into the shadows, and he seemed more interested in the back of Mr. Crouch's head than anything else. Mr. Crouch, for his part, didn't seem to notice the attention, though his hand crept up to smooth his already flat hair more than once.

"So basically," The Minister said, leaning forwards, "you're saying that the only spell that worked on these creatures was a WindFunnel?"

"Yes Minister." Frank nodded.

"What was the highest level of spells you attempted?" Mr. Crouch snapped, his quill hovering over parchment. There was a look in his eye Alice didn't like; as if he was wanting to discipline someone no matter how small or vital the infraction.

"Top of the Auror permission limits. No further," Frank replied stiffly.

"Perhaps stronger spells are called for," mused David.

"I have been advocating-" Crouch began.

"Yes, yes." The Minister waved his hand. He'd had plenty of paperwork from the Head Auror's office concerning his desire for a change in policy. "You really think that the _Dark Arts_ could be useful?"

"I think we may need to legalise the Unforgivables in certain circumstances, Minister," David said seriously.

"But would our Aurors use them? Mr. Longbottom?" The Minister turned to Frank. "Would you be willing to use the Killing Curse on these elves to protect Britain?"

Alice didn't listen to Frank's hesitant but affirmative reply; they'd already had that conversation with Albus when they'd reported to the Order. There had been a lot of arguments at that meeting, some for, some against the Unforgivables. In the end, it was decided to use them as a last resort only, and Alice felt sure that that would be the conclusion of the Ministry too.

Her eyes drifted back to the strange man in the corner. A jolt shot down her spine as she found he was watching her now. He caught her eyes and winked, then lit a second cigarette from the stub of the first and went back to staring at Crouch.

"Where are they now? Exactly?" asked the Minister.

"Encamped between the White Horse(1) and Wayland's Smithy."

For a second Alice didn't know who had spoken, the voice wasn't familiar; sticky like tar, then she realised it was the smoking man. "They're having a big pow-wow. There's a big tent right under the Horse and all the Captains, the King and his brother meet there every day."

"So we have some time," The Minister said, apparently taking the smoking man's words as fact. Alice was intrigued, who was this man who could sit in on high security meeting and speak so bluntly and informally to the Minister? "If an Elemental Spell worked for Mr. Longbottom, would the whole class be useful against them? How soon can we attack? And what are the Death Eaters doing about this threat? Has You-Know-Who approached them? Are they working with him? Gentlemen, I want answers. Put everyone on this."

"Yes Minister," said both Crouch and McNath.

Meeting concluded, the Longbottoms were ushered out of the high level offices and into the lift. There they were told to return to Auror offices and await new orders. Until then, keep calm and carry on.

As they descended, memos flitting overhead, Alice turned to Frank,"Who was that man in the corner?" she asked.

"Agent," Frank grunted, a frown on his face as he contemplated the question of the elves.

"Agent...?"

"Just 'Agent'," Frank smiled at Alice, smoothing an errant hair into place, "He's the top Unspeakable. That's all I know. That's all anyone knows."

"How come I've never heard of him?"

"Well, you're just a little woman aren't you?" Frank said teasingly, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on the top of her head.

"You!" Alice said chidingly, pushing her elbow into his solar plexus. Then her tone became more serious as she asked, "When do you think we'll attack?"

Frank frowned again and said solemnly, "Soon. Very soon."

XOXOX

**(1) There are many 'White Horses' on the Downs of England, but here I am referring to the most famous one of all near Uffington, Wiltshire. Wayland's Smithy is a Barrow (bronze and iron age burial mound) nearby.**


	34. Riddle me this

Chapter Fifteen

Dark corridor gave way to lamp-lit room as Lucius slipped through the door into a small room upstairs in the Edge Hill house. He'd received a murmured message from Severus and had excused himself from the Dark Lord's presence as soon as he could. Severus was waiting for him by the window, whispering to a figure cloaked and hooded in black. He shut the door behind him with an audible click, and Severus immediately looked up and came over, robes billowing.

"Well?" Lucius questioned, flicking an obvious glance at the unknown person.

Severus beckoned the figure over and introduced, "Lucius, Morrigan Le Fay. Morrigan, Lucius Malfoy."

The blond wizard tried not to start in shock as she threw back her hood and he looked down upon a familiar face attached to an important name. As he got over the first impression Lucius began to see that the daughter, though similar to the mother, was not identical. She had a thinner face and darker eyes, and the look in those eyes was haunted. "Miss Le Fay, it is a pleasure to meet you," he said, bowing over her hand.

"Mr Malfoy," she nodded in return.

"If you would excuse us for a moment," Lucius said courteously, before turning a glare on Severus and wrenching open the door. Once they were in the corridor he hissed, "Morrigan Le Fay? Where have you been hiding her, Severus?"

"In my house," Severus said calmly.

"For how long?"

Severus pretended to think. "About a week."

Lucius made a small noise in the back of his throat and stood very still, only his eyes moving between the door and Severus. As asset, a power like that, the daughter of Maeve, who Voldemort had seemed rather attached to, and Severus Snape had been hiding her in his house for almost a week. Lucius wasn't sure how many more unexpected things he could take. Elves not attacking his house, lost women turning up... He needed a holiday. A long holiday.

"Lucius," Severus said seriously, "She was held by the elves, tortured. You understand? She may have a lot of information but she must be treated gently."

The other man frowned lightly, then a light clicked on in his brain, and he said, "She's the one. She's the reason. All the dreams, you becoming a Seer, it's all connected to her." Lucius noted the look in Severus's eyes and nodded, "I see. Held by the elves? Hmm. I will do what I can to protect her, but I don't think there's much need. The Dark Lord was very attached to her mother."

"She blames him for her death."

"Well, he can handle himself," Lucius said with absolute assurance, "Shall we?" He gestured to the door of the hall, taking in the small room as he waved. These fireworks would be worth watching.

XoxoX

Morrigan stepped nervously into the hall following in Snape's wake. She was truly anxious; her mouth had gone dry, her legs turned to jelly, and she felt as if every cell in her body was shaking. Her stomach roiled and Morrigan wondered if the calming draught Severus had given her was going to stay down. Not like it was doing any good. Oh! Why was she here? She would much rather be anywhere else. Far away. Far, far away. Like the Shetland Isles in the cold North Sea, watching the waves roll in against a grey cast sky, the cries of sea birds piercing the air.

So caught up in her fantasy was she that Morrigan almost walked into Snape when he stopped. She glanced up sharply and froze. There, talking to a man built like a wall, was Lord Voldemort. It was obviously he, no-one else had ghostly pale skin, red-irised eyes and as opulent a chair. For a second she felt like running from the monster, but then she remembered what he'd done. This creature had killed her mother, and she would have recompense.

"My Lord," said Lucius, pacing forwards, "If I may have your attention for a moment, I would like to present someone to you."

Voldemort gave a last instruction to Goyle and turned to Lucius with a nod. "You may."

The blond managed not to smirk at the shock he was about to create. A graceful hand indicated the hood figure by Severus Snape's side and he said clearly, "My Lord, allow me to present Morrigan Le Fay."

The effect of his announcement was instantaneous. The hall fell silent and Voldemort's eyes went wide, his hand convulsively clenched around the arm of his chair. Lucius could have crowed if he weren't a Slytherin with a sense of decorum.

"What?" whispered Voldemort.

"Morrigan Le Fay. My Lord," Lucius said again.

Voldemort rose from his seat in one fluid motion and crossed the short space between himself and Snape's companion. Beside her Severus bowed, his own face a complete mask hiding all his emotions.

"Morrigan Le Fay," Voldemort repeated in a hushed tone. He had never thought this would be possible.

Daringly Morrigan threw back her hood and stared up at the Dark Lord, her nostrils flaring as she tried to contain her wrath. Eye to eye, each took in the other; raven locks, thin faces, hope in the heart of one, anger in the other. Long moments passed and Lucius wondered at how familial they looked. He shook it off. Undoubtedly it was just a hangover from knowing _Maeve_ Le Fay.

"You killed my mother," Morrigan finally bit out, unable to keep it in any longer.

Voldemort reared back, oddly wounded by the accusation. "I did no such thing," he said, "And how would you know, you were in Azkaban."

"Magic," she responded snidely.

"Your mother was so distraught at hearing you had been taken that I suggested she vent her anger in one of our attacks," He raised an eyebrow and corrected her assumption, "It was the Aurors who killed her."

"YOU suggested, _YOU_! If you hadn't lured her into believing your lies, pushed her to attack innocents, made her-" Morrigan yelled at the Dark Lord, venting two years' worth of anger and grief directly at him.

"ENOUGH!" he cut in, furious at being shouted at, "I will not stand for your impertinence!" Pulling out his wand, he turned on her. Morrigan fell to the floor, hands clawing at her throat as she writhed in agony. Voldemort's anger waned, confusion taking its place, and even before Severus cried, "My Lord! Stop!" Voldemort's wand had already dropped.

"Why didn't you block me?" he asked in a befuddled tone. Maeve had blocked every one of his curses with an impressive iris shield; surely her daughter could do the same.

"I can't! I bloody well can't!" Morrigan cried, her throat still burning, and she turned her face away to hide her tears.

Severus pressed a small vial into her hand and stood to explain, trembling slightly, to the Dark Lord, "When the Doors opened the elves captured her. All her magic was stripped from her. My Lord, she was with them for two years, she may not have any power but she does have information."

Voldemort stared down at the young woman who he had hoped would provide the necessary strength to help him destroy the elves and the Ministry both. "Fine," he snapped, turning from her and sitting back on his great chair, "I will hear what she has to say."

"Thank you, my Lord," Severus murmured, kneeling down next to Morrigan to coax her to her feet.

"I want to leave," she rasped as he came close.

Sweeping down beside her, Lucius helped her sit up. He had watched both amused and awed as she fought with Lord Voldemort, and now turned on the charm. "My dear, would you like a drink? Here." He conjured a goblet and prepared his next words carefully, "Better? I understand what you've been through. These invaders are ruthless. I need to find a way to beat them, send them back where they belong. Not just for me. My wife, she is pregnant. I must protect my family. You understand that?"

"Of course. Family is everything," Morrigan said sincerely, the potion and water easing her throat.

"Would you sit with me?" Lucius smiled, "And tell me what you know?" He led her to a chair where she sat with her back firmly facing Voldemort. Lucius, however, was perfectly in his line of sight, and from his Lord's expression Lucius knew that through his intervention was welcomed, it would wise to watch his back over the next few days. "Why don't we begin with that armour of theirs?" he suggested to Morrigan, conjuring parchment and ink. All information was good information, but only if you remembered it.

XoxoX

Lucius paced back and forth in front of the large map, thinking through all Morrigan had told them. Quiet discussions between the remaining Inner Circle Death Eaters made a susurrus of background to his thoughts. In a corner Lord Voldemort was flicking through numerous texts, apparently reading them all at once.

As he understood it the elves were revenge-driven, ruthless bastards who used bronze age technology with unerring skill. Oh, and they had magic. Not quite in the same way that wizards did, but it was there. Destroying them them would not be an easy task.

"I'm just saying-" Rabastan LeStrange said a little louder, only to be cut off by his older brother hissing him quiet.

Wandering a little closer, Lucius listened in on the conversation. Every idea could have value, and knowing what someone's idea was before they told you was very useful.

"It would be impossible," said Nott, the third member of the group, "Our ratty spy told us that magic just bounces off them. How can you catch someone without magic?"

Rabastan muttered something that sounded remarkably like, "Muggle methods."

"Stupid idea," scowled Rudolphus.

"Even _if_ we could capture an elf, how we would get it to talk? They could be immune to Veritaserum!" Nott sighed, clearly feeling unhappy about being faced with an insurmountable problem.

He'd heard enough. Lucius drifted over to where Morrigan sat quietly, and sat down next to her with a sigh.

"I guess my information wasn't helpful," she commented with a sad smile.

"On the contrary, my dear. You've probably saved us from doing a lot of things that wouldn't have worked and most likely would have got us killed," Lucius smiled grimly and half-laughed, "We might last another couple of weeks now."

Morrigan was quiet for a moment, then, with a scowl in Voldemort's direction (which he ignored), she said clearly, "I wish mother was here. She could tell you a lot more about _them_ that me."

"What about your father?" Lucius asked curiously. If her mother had known more perhaps her father did.

"I... don't know who my father is," Morrigan admitted hesitantly. "He was a wizard I'm sure, but all mother would say is that he was a riddle or his name was Riddle. I can't really remember. It wasn't important then," she looked hopefully at Lucius, as a Pureblood with heritage he might recognise the name, give her a family again. He shook his head though, and apologised. She shrugged and they moved on to other topics as Severus returned from the Potions Room downstairs with an armful of books.

In the corner Morrigan's words had had a far greater impact. Lord Voldemort was staring into the middle distance mouthing the word 'riddle'.

XoxoX

Voldemort stood in the centre of his bedroom with his wand to his head and concentrated. It disgusted him that he still needed a bedroom after all his enhancements, because sleep was the greatest of time's thieves. An average human slept about a third of his life away. Voldemort now needed less than two, rather than the usual eight, a night. Yet if he wanted to stay sane he couldn't cut down any more.

Sleep, however, was not on his mind right now. He'd tried to dismiss Morrigan's mention of her father being called 'Riddle' from his thoughts, but found himself unable to. His last conversation with Maeve kept floating into his head.

"_Sorry isn't good enough. We have to get her out. That place...does things to the mind," Maeve fretted._

"_I know. Nothing can be done tonight." _

"_Why not?" demanded Maeve._

"_It would take a power greater than yourself to get into that place," Voldemort drifted close to Maeve and laid his thin hands on her shoulders, "Together we could do it. But all of my forces would be required. Things are already in motion tonight. Why don't you join them? Work out some of that anger on those who deserve it." _

"_Yes," she murmured and placed her own hand on his chest, "There is something you should know. Morrigan, she-"_

All the time Voldemort had thought that last sentence would have ended with _"Temperamental"_ or _"Powerful"_, now he was wondering if it went: _"Morrigan, she is your daughter."_ After all, he was, as far as he knew, the only wizard alive with the true name of Tom** Riddle**.

If his supposition was correct and she was his daughter then he should be able to remember meeting Maeve before. He didn't.

Which led to him standing in the middle of his bedroom with his wand to his head focussing on Maeve.

"_Revelabunt defectus memoriae!_" he enunciated clearly.

A tingling all over his head struck up, and had he been looking in a mirror Voldemort would have seen his head glowing a silvery white. The feeling lasted a while – he had many years of memories to search through – but finally it ceased and Voldemort hesitantly brought his wand round in front of him.

The tip glowed pink.

He sat down with a thump at the revealing glow. It was true.

"Morrigan's my daughter."

This changed everything, or did it? He couldn't think. He felt like the whole world was spinning. Never had he... This was impossi... He couldn't. It must be wrong. That must be it. Wrong. Right?

Voldemort blinked at the pink wand tip, took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Not wrong.

The facts. Sometime about nineteen years ago he had met Maeve, fathered a child and been obliviated. Then, a little over three years ago, he'd met Maeve _again_ and she'd never mentioned the fact that he had a daughter. Well, that was just peachy.

Voldemort threw his wand onto the bed and the little light went out. He picked himself up and shakily poured himself a drink, throwing back the first before measuring out another. Out of a list of unexpected thing this was right up there with Dumbledore becoming a Death Eater. He had a daughter. _A daughter_. And not one of those small impressionable children that could be trained into doing exactly what he wanted but a teenager who shouted at him.

A teenager who – oh Merlin – Voldemort grabbed the bottle and went to join his wand. A teenager who had been imprisoned in Azkaban, tortured by the elves and stripped of her magic.

Fury boiled by, taking him a little by surprise. Those wretched interlopers. Those odious brutes! Those loathsome, degenerate, **foul cockroaches! Those ABSOLUTE BASTARDS! **Torturing _his _daughter, removing her magic. They would **PAY**, oh, yes, they would pay. When he, Lord Voldemort, was finished with those, those _elves_, there wouldn't be enough left to fit in a teaspoon!

Half the bottle of scotch was gone by now and Voldemort had ruined a few pieces of furniture. He'd also given up on trying to get the scotch in the glass before he drank it. Waste of time really.

As suddenly as it came the fury abated, run out by shear inebriation. It left him with a strange urge to lie on the floor and sing. It was great. Life was great! He was a father, a father, him!

A stupid grin rose on his pale face as he moved into being a very happy drunk indeed.

He knew there was a reason he liked alcohol.

XoxoX

If the guards stationed around Edge Hill Manor heard a rousing chorus of _Nellie Dean_ (1) emanating from Voldemort's quarters late in the night they chose to ignore it. Always best not to disturb the boss when he was clearly involved in working some Dark Magic.

Besides, thought one Death Eater as a particularly off-key note grated against his ears, he wasn't getting paid enough to deal with that racket!

XOXOX

(1) This was such a recurring trope in old British comedies that anyone who was drunk sang _Nellie Dean_ and anyone singing ___Nellie Dean_ was drunk. It was useful cultural shorthand in the days before you could show a grown man pissing or puking in public.

**Thank you to all those who have added this story to [Story Alert].**


	35. Darkness and Light

**Thank you to my continued reviewers, story alerters, and other readers. This is now officially an epic work – over 100,000 words long! And still so much more to come...**

Chapter Sixteen

The cavernous space of the Ministry Atrium was taped off and all other witches and wizards told to remain in their offices until the klaxon sounded. Crowded around the central golden statues and fountain, all available trained Aurors exchanged last words and tactics. Tonight they would be attacking the stationary elvish forces. Though there were thousands of the enemy and barely and hundred of them every Auror remained hopeful. For the last week they had all been put through a crash-course of new more deadly, and Darker, spells. Everything up to the Unforgivables was now acceptable for combating the invaders.

In a group right under an adoring house-elf statue James made sure everyone knew exactly where they were apparating to. He had never visited the area they were going to, but the photograph Moody had given him was quite clear. He passed it over to Sirius who barely glanced at it before handing it on to Patrick O'Riley, who had been best man at Frank's wedding. James frowned, Sirius claimed that he was fine for Auror duties, that he'd seen the counsellor about Beatrice's death, but there was still something a off about him. The little nuances were concerning James; he seemed more determined and focussed, but he couldn't keep still and the fleeting gleeful expression on his face when Moody had told them they were going after the elves had put a shiver down James's spine.

He sidled over to Robertson, the fourth team member, and murmured, "Keep an eye on Sirius will you?"

"I was about to ask you do to the same," Robertson replied quietly, a smile tugging his lopsided face.

The room fell slowly towards silence as the Minister came out of the lift and clambered up onto the wall of the fountain. Its steady tinkling of never-ending water filled the room with a strange tranquillity as he looked over the arrayed men. Every one willing to fight, every one willing to die: for themselves, their families, their country, their way of life. The Minister glanced down at the speech in his hand. The words blurred before his eyes; they weren't what he really wanted to say to these incredible young men and women. Casting his gaze over the assembled, he tried to take in every face, tried not to wonder how many wouldn't be coming back.

"Thank you," he said slowly and sincerely, "and good luck."

With that he lifted his wand and the klaxon sounded. War had begun.

On the boundary ditch a solider stood leaning slightly on his spear, eyes out into the night. It was cool and there was a misty rain in the air that covered everything. It was rusting weather, a time to keep swords sheathed, safe in their wool-lined leather. A sound like branches breaking brought his head round, his eyes piercing the darkness as he stretched his hearing. Again the sound same, closer, from the left. And now further, from the right. Then a smell, a smell like no other. Displaced air. Wizards!

The solider lifted his spear to his shoulder, moving naturally into a strong throwing position even as he cried out, "To arms! To arms!". The shout was taken up on both sides, ringing out into the night and waking all elves that were near.

Dark shapes moved in the shadows before him. He chose one, took careful aim and threw; his sword being drawn from its sheath even before he heard the satisfying thunk and scream of a wounded man.

Lights blossomed suddenly all along the boundary line, causing sensitive eyes to contract sharply. Spells arched through the night setting tents on fire and drawing howling winds from still air. Many hit the roused elves, their swords drawn and armour shrugged on.

Some fell, slipping on sheets of conjured ice or hit in the head with flying tent poles ripped up by the swirling winds. Most ignored the accurate, and colourful, spells hitting themselves and their comrades, paying more attention to the shouted orders of an irate captain. They knew that the wizards, for all their weather-working, could do nothing to stop them.

The line advanced and soon all the Aurors were fighting hand-to-hand, bat against sword, staff against spear. Spells lit the air with less frequency, the more immediate need outweighing the time and energy required to draw hail from the misty skies.

Near the edge of the mêlée Robertson elbowed an elf, stood on his foot, and whacked him in the face. He went down like an unsupported sunflower. Robertson turned, sighting his next opponent. Snapping out a series of bone-breaking hexes and seeing the solider run straight through them he ducked. The sword came slicing over his head.

Closing the distance between them, the wizard drew back his head and smashed it into the face of his foe. A cut opened up on his forehead, spilling blood into his eyes as they both reeled back. Robertson was prepared for the dislocated vision though, brawling had been a habit of his before he quit the beer. Swinging one arm back he punched the unsteady elf off his feet with a satisfying _thunk!_

He'd achieved a small respite – there was no one attacking him for the moment, and no elf looking his way. Robertson dashed the blood from his eyes and muttered a small healing charm that would hold the cut until he got it looked at properly. Now, where was the rest of his team?

Patrick, the small Irishman with an easy smile, had gone down earlier, rushed to St. Mungo's with a spear in his gut. Potter and Black? Ah, there was Black, wielding a stolen sword like a maniac, screaming a string of insults and racial slurs as if he'd been hearing them his whole life. Good lad, taking all that pent-up aggression about the death of his girlfriend out on the enemy. He'd probably feel awful in the morning, if he had a morning; overworked muscles and a sore throat if Robertson was any judge. That left Potter. Where was – dear lord!

Robertson sprinted over to where James Potter was trying to fight off three elves at once and about to crumble under the barrage of blows. He picked up a stray sword as he ran, giving a huge attention-grabbing bellow before he plunged into their midst. Potter nearly jumped as a blow aimed for his head was parried, but he didn't stop for long. He swung the long staff in his hands to block blows from the other two attackers.

Fighting hard, blade arching from one side to the other as he tried to keep up with the life-long training, Robertson keep his eyes on the flashing blade. A cry beside him made him take a risky move; stepping right within the arc of the oncoming blade he prayed elvish anatomy was the same as human and brought his knee up sharply. The effect was instantaneous: the elf folded around his groin, exposing the back of his neck. Robertson took his blade in both hands and swung with all his strength.

With blood spattered clothes he stepped over to where Potter was struggling to hold his staff one-handed. The other arm hung limply by his side, a dark stain growing around the bronze knife embedded in his shoulder. Wrapping a strong arm around the injured man, Robertson ordered, "Go limp!"

In the next instant they were appearing at the medical point. Potter gasped, the sudden apparation jarring his wound.

"Easy lad," Robertson said, setting him on a bench. "I'm going back for Black, you manage?"

James nodded, letting the staff fall to the ground as he reached up instinctively to touch the knife hilt. When he looked back up his saviour had gone. James sighed. In a way he was glad, that would make things easier to explain. Standing unsteadily, he focussed on the Hebrides and the Order's Headquarters. Dumbledore needed to know.

A worn path was beginning to show in the drawing room Headquarters from where Lily was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. When James arrived, bleeding and wobbly, Lily raced to his side with a cry.

"Dumbledore. I must tell Dumbledore!" James said thickly.

"Alright, but we must get you to the infirmary. Oh, James!" Lily held back her worries, and slung his good arm over her shoulders, wrapping her arm around his waist and leading him on.

"No. Must tell Albus. There's more than we thought," James said, his words blurring as shock set in.

Gently Lily lay him down on a bed in the makeshift infirmary. The knife was in up to its hilt and the spreading blood stain did nothing to ease her mind. She carefully cut away the material, ignoring James's continued mutterings about needing to talk to Albus.

"Lily?" Peter came in, having heard voices.

"Oh, Peter. Could you get Ethel and Agnes for me?" Lily said gratefully.

"Of course," Peter hurried away to find the elderly Matrons.

Fretting on the bed, James grabbed Lily's arm and insisted again, "Get Albus. Please Lily, I need to tell him."

"Alright, alright. If it'll make you feel better!" Lily reached in her pocket and pulled out a grey pebble. Holding her hand flat, the stone in her palm, she spoke, "Albus Dumbledore."

There was a pause and then a light went on inside the rock, as if someone had flicked a switch. Echoing slightly, Albus's voice emerged from the stone, "Hello. This is Albus Dumbledore."

"Albus, it's Lily. James is here, he's been hurt but he's insisting on seeing you. He says there's more than we thought," Lily spoke clearly, making sure not to slur her words.

"I will be right there. Thank you Lily," Albus said, and the stone went dark.

Lily slipped it back into her pocket and picked up a load of gauze, padding it around James's acquired weapon as she said, "He's on his way. Just relax now."

The next morning James was sitting up in bed staring despondently at the _Daily Prophet_ headlines. The attack at the White Horse had been a mess, with too few spells having an effect and the elvish response severely underestimated. The list of the wounded, missing and dead was of a sorrowful length. They had lost, proportionally, too many Aurors for the number of elves slain. James looked up as Lily, accompanied by Sirius, came in. She was carrying his breakfast while Sirius had got the short straw and the bandages. Lily set the tray down on the bedside table, and Sirius dumped his armful of stuff at the end of the bed before plonking himself down beside James.

"What happened to you?" asked James, taking in Sirius's cut riddled face, arms and hands. The black eye was particularly impressive.

"Got in a bit of a fight. You?"

"Stabbed in the shoulder."

"Ah." Sirius nodded sagely and they both burst out laughing. Lily shook her head at them and continued pulling back James's top to remove the old bandage. Peeling it off she frowned at the wound, and Sirius commented, "Faker! You didn't get stabbed!"

"Yes I did! The knife's over there." James pointed to the dresser where the bronze knife lay. Then he looked awkwardly down at his wound and asked Lily, "What did Ethel and Agnes do to me? It's healed!"

"Not quite, you've still got a quarter-inch deep cut and a lot of bruising but..." Lily trailed off, turning to get a new gauze pad while she muttered, "I saw the spells, they didn't use anything unusual. It shouldn't have healed like this."

"It's like the time I ran you over with the bike," commented Sirius from where he was examining the knife.

"You what?" Lily burst out, looking between James and Sirius before marching over to the bike-owning maniac.

Behind her back James hissed, "Sirius!" He hadn't told Lily about that incident knowing the reaction it would provoke, and that Lily could do some nasty things with that wand of hers. A wand which, James spotted, his eyes widening in glee, was sitting on the breakfast tray. She must have put it there when she climbed the stairs. Stealthily his hand snaked out and took it, hiding the 10 ¼ inches of willow under the sheets.

"You ran over _my boyfriend_ with that infernal machine?" Lily asked in a deadly voice on the other side of the room.

"Only his foot! And that was totally healed by the next day," Sirius assured her while trying to keep the knife out of her line of sight. An enraged redhead and pointy objects shouldn't mix.

"Oh well, if it was only his foot," said Lily with a large smile that quickly vanished as she put her finger under Sirius's nose. "I told you that bike was trouble. You irresponsible man. Did you not see him? Or was your over-inflated ego in the way?"

"I-I-" Sirius tried to come up with something that would sooth the beast. "I'm sorry."

Lily growled at him, snatched the knife from his hand, waved it in front of him and said, "You'd better be." She turned the knife point down and rammed it into the table where it stuck, shuddering.

Still angry she marched the few paces back to James's bed, muttering to herself. As she walked she held up her hand and clicked her fingers, summoning a light so she could see to bandage his wound properly. Lily had become used to doing small magic without her wand, and didn't notice anything was wrong until she saw James staring at the light globe as if he'd never seen anything like it before.

"What?" she snapped.

"You just summoned a light without your wand," Sirius explained, coming to the end of the bed with a serious expression.

"I-" Lily began, only to be interrupted by James pulling her wand out from underneath the bedcovers. He twirled it thoughtfully in his fingers before asking, "How long?"

"I-" Lily stopped, licked her lips and sagged, her shoulders dropping as she realised there was no way out of this pickle, "I've _known_ for about a year, but-"

"But?" James snapped.

"My magic has been changing ever since seventh year."

"You broke your leg in seventh year, only when we got to Pomfrey it was practically healed," Sirius said thoughtfully.

James's head came round from where he was glaring at Lily to examine Sirius's statement. "You're right," he said, a frown forming between his eyes. "I tried hexing you a lot that year, but none of them worked. I figured you'd learnt a new protection spell," Sirius slowly shook his head. James adjusted his glasses and said, "So aside from Lily lying to me-"

"I didn't lie," Lily said, "I just...omitted the truth."

"Sounds awfully Slytherin to me," James said. Then he turned away and took a deep breath. Hurting Lily wouldn't do any good and would only make him feel bad in the long run. He'd kept plenty of secrets from her in the past, and he wasn't sure that he wouldn't have done exactly the same as her if their roles were reversed. He looked up at her and gave a small apologetic smile as he held out his hand. She took it willingly and he tugged her over to sit beside him.

At the end of the bed Sirius looked on jealously as the couple sorted themselves out. He would never have that now, now that Beatrice was gone. He'd said that he was okay, and killing all those elves had made him feel better in the moment, but it hadn't really helped. There was still a hole inside him, a hole he didn't think would ever heal.

"So what the hell is going on?" James asked, taking in the three of them. Lily's wandless powers, his incredibly fast healing, and Sirius with his protection from spells.

"I would like to discuss that with you at some point," said Albus Dumbledore coming in from the hallway. There was a twinkle in his eye as he looked over his half-moon glasses at the trio. "However I think it would be best if we awaited the return of Remus."

"You know what's happened to us?" asked Sirius.

"I have a theory," admitted the genial old man, "I believe more happened at Tintagel two years ago than was immediately obvious."

Two years ago...two years ago they had been whisked away from Hogwarts by Morrigan Le Fay. Taken to Tintagel Castle, they had heard a fantastical tale about magic, elves and Merlin. Then they had seen that it was no fairy tale for kids as a great pair of doors were opened before them and they all heard the sound of the elvish army that was now taking over magical Britain. There had been more than the five of them – Lily, Sirius, James, Remus and Morrigan - there that night...

"Snape. Has this happened to him too?" James asked, anger barely masked in his voice as he remembered that awful moment when Snape had revealed himself and cut James down with an unheard of spell.

"Alas, Severus Snape has passed out of my influence," Albus said sadly, "Perhaps he will return to us one day. But for now I ask that you speak of this to no one until Remus returns."

"We're good at keeping secrets," James said, his own eyes twinkling as he shared a look with Sirius over all the pranks they had played at Hogwarts.

"Too good," added Lily quietly.


	36. Gleaming Spires

**Please be aware that I have taken liberties with the geography of Oxford. The wonderful wall is no longer completely encircling, and never included the tributary of the Thames, the 'Isis'. I would really like to hear everyone's opinion of this chapter as it contains only one of Rowling's creations, the rest are mine.**

Chapter Seventeen

The Gleaming Spires

Three communities lived side by side in the City of Oxford. First there was the 'town': the locals who ran everything from buses to shops, industry to libraries. These muggles were the blood in the system, the cars on the roads, the supporters in the stadium; vital and necessary to keeping the city living, breathing, working. Then there were the academics, the 'gown' side of Oxford, those who made the university possible. Academics and administrators, students and dons, they made the city what it was; a vibrant learning centre with traditions dating back almost a thousand years.

Within this collective of colleges there lived a third community, one which you wouldn't notice unless you looked for it. Gandr College. The beating heart of magical Oxford. It had existed as long as the walls that encircled the city, a bastion of knowledge, debate and wisdom. A place where the questions asked would take a lifetime to answer. Its tendrils had spread throughout the University, making it impossible for the Masters of the muggle colleges to ignore. Indeed, the Secrecy Act had been waived when it came to the Masters, lest incautious students end up exposing all.

And so, on the banks of the winding Thames, the City of Oxford sat with gleaming spires looking out over the world. From the high peak of St. Mary's Church a distant burnished shine could be seen. In the Master's office in Gandr College a message was delivered, and in a sheltered courtyard two Aurors popped into existence. Oxford's calm was about to be broken.

Channels between the muggle and magical worlds flooded with messages. A decision was taken. Gates were closed, and on the radio the muggles heard the news. The centre of Oxford was to be isolated due to IRA activity. The wizards heard a very different story; the elves had come and now was the time to defend the city. Though not all seemed to understand the gravity of the situation.

XoxoX

In Gandr College there was a room with a beautifully patterned carpet to compliment the wood-panelled walls and exquisite paintings. Sirius tried not to pace across it as he waited, but it was difficult. It had been impressed upon him how important the information he'd been sent to get was. Even the Minister himself had spared time to speak with him, which made Sirius rather edgy.

It was understandable that he jumped when the door opened.

A thickly robed, slightly portly gentleman entered with a jovial smile despite the circumstances. "Ah, hello. You'll be the Auror?" the man said, lowering himself into one of the comfy chairs.

"Sirius Black, sir," Sirius replied, taking the seat opposite him.

"Eric Swanbank, Dean," Swanbank shook the young man's hand and summoned tea.

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice and under the currant situation, Mr Swanbank," Sirius said, placing rather more than his usual number of sugar cubes in his tea.

"Dean, if you please. No problem at all. We are _the_ world-class wizarding University after all. I'm sure we can solve this little elvish problem in no time," The Dean smiled and selected a nice piece of shortbread.

Sirius blinked rapidly and leant back saying, "You do realise that the city is surrounded by something in the region of_ two thousand elves_, Mr Dean."

"Dean, just Dean. I know this must be hard for a non-academic to understand," Swanbank patted Sirius's hand sympathetically. Raising an eyebrow he went on, "Surrounded you say? Well, we have the finest minds here in Oxford, I'm certain it can be sorted out in short order. I have no worries."

"There's at least six thousand more out there, sir," Sirius persisted.

"Goodness," Swanbank said without losing his genial smile, "I suppose that's why you've come to me. What exactly can the gleaming spires to for you?"

"Well, I, we need to know how to kill them, Dean," Sirius sputtered, derailed by the Dean's nonchalant attitude. If he didn't take action then his precious 'gleaming spires' of Oxford would be under elvish rule. Its people, academic and non-academic alike, would be killed or enslaved, and this portly fool would have to lose that smile.

"Kill them, hey? I can't answer that without data, can't answer anything without data! Haha! What's worked then, dear fellow?"

Cringing slightly at the endearment, Sirius answered, "Only physical means and Elemental Spells have had any effect, Dean."

"Elemental spells, hmm, requires a detective," Swanbank tapped his teaspoon on the side of his second cup of tea, "They are in the class of Dynamics, so...Yes. You need to see Archie Fothergill. Across the quad, straight up the stairs, third door on the right. Second floor."

Sirius stood as Dean Swanbank did and found himself ushered, almost pushed, towards the door. There the Dean pointed him in the direction of the nearest stairwell and shut the door firmly behind him. Sirius shook his head in amazement, some people couldn't take hearing about the bad stuff, dire situations, and would get it out of their lives as quickly as possible. It was a nice life but, damn, if they weren't lucky Sirius and his ilk were around to keep it that way.

XoxoX

Near the Water Gate on the Thames Archibald Fothergill, Professor of Dialectics and Dynamic Spells, stood with his fellows and watched as the river's defences were tested. Students in punts went up and down before them, shouting various incomprehensible figures back to the learned scholars. Every now and again a carrier pigeon would drop down in front of one of the Dons and a murmur would run through the assembled as the information was passed.

"Kidlington's fallen," said Joseph Cinerea, Professor of Illogical Mechanics.

"Ah. Any news on Wheatley?" Archibald asked.

"Took it an hour ago, old boy. Didn't you hear?"

"Then it appears they have effectively severed our communications network."

"Looks that way," Joseph said a little too cheerfully. "Say, isn't that one of your boys?"

Archibald out over towards the Mound and saw one of his PhD students running across the sward, robes billowing. He puffed over to the river bank, and hurried along the path to his Professor, apologising to a group of dons he barged through.

"Bennett?" Archibald questioned as the young man got his breath back, "Elucidate the reason for your present condition."

"There's an Auror here to see you, sir. In your office," Bennett choked out between breaths.

"Most irregular. Come along, Bennett." Archibald strode off, nodding to colleagues, his poor PhD student carried along in his wake.

XoxoX

On the west quadrant of the walls gathered the staff-men, those wizards who researched the advantages of using a staff rather than a wand. Right now they were finding a six foot length of oak over the head of an elf was very advantageous. They were using them for magical purposes too; fireballs were sizzling out over the wall to impact amongst the streets and houses, keeping the majority of the elves at bay. Those who did venture close enough to scale the walls had to deal with slick ice and, at the top, a swift bop on the head.

The wizards didn't have it all their way, however. Not only did the elves have greater numbers on their side – only some hundred and fifty wizards lodged within the walls of Oxford – but they also were deadly accurate with their light spears. Any time a wizard popped up to see where to launch a fire, ice or wind spell, half a dozen spears clattered around, and through, him. A variety of shielding spells had been tried and discarded, the spear heads of bronze cutting right through like a warm knife through butter. Some of the more enterprising young student of magic had even 'borrowed' dustbin lids to use as makeshift shields.

Edward and Alec Grey were taking it in turns to look around the crenellation they had taken refuge behind. From their placement near the centre of the wall, between two gatehouses, they had plenty of targets to aim at. Alec, the elder, ducked a well-thrown spear and dropped back behind the wall.

"Your turn," he gasped, "Aim right."

"Your right or my right?" muttered Edward, hefting his staff. Jumping up he aimed and shot off a bolt of smoking fire directly into the path of the line of troops his brother had spotted. He ran his eyes over the pock-marked line at the outermost range of spell fire, and blasted another creeping elf with a fireball before dropping back down. "Is it just me or have things got quieter in the last ten minutes?" he asked.

"It's you," responded Alec automatically.

"Seriously."

Alec paused in his crouched position and stared at his brother's cocked eyebrow - he must have caught it with fire at some point as half was missing. Silently Alec noted that fact so he could tease the first year student about it later, then he looked up the line of the wall. There were less staff-men standing than when he last looked. Then again there were less men full stop. Even so, perhaps Ed was right. He glanced down the other way and listened.

"I think you're right," he said. He couldn't hear as many spells being fired.

"Do you think-" began Edward only to stop short as a head appeared in the crenel behind his sibling. Grabbing Alec's singed shoulder Edward pulled him down and launched to his feet.

He batted away the sword swung at him and rounded his own weapon at the elf. With a hefty blow the solid oak connected. A satisfying thunk resonated up the staff and Edward stepped back ready to swing again. The elf, winded, moved into a fighting stance and, wielding his sword with a cry, attacked. Edward took the staff in both hands, using it defensively to ward off the stinging blows. Slowly he was driven backwards, constantly fearful that his next step would land on Alec. Then, like a light in the dark world of raining attacks he heard a whisper.

"Duck."

He ducked. Over his head came whistling his brother's ash staff. It hit the elf in the side, throwing him from his feet and off the narrow walkway. For a second the soldier windmilled in midair. Then he plummeted. Immediately both brothers ducked to lie flat on the stone as spears flew over head. Two sets of eyes tracked the elf's fall and two faces winced as he came down right on top of some pointed railings.

"That's got to hurt," Alec commented blandly.

"I'll say," rejoined Edward. "Er, thanks."

"Add it to the list," shrugged Alec. "You're going to owe me a keg at this rate."

"We'll see. Hey is he supposed to be that colour?" Edward pointed down to the impaled elf. Spreading from the iron railing across his body was a strange purple hue. It was like someone was pouring dye into his body.

"That's new," agreed Alec.

XoxoX

Hardly had Sirius been introduced to Professor Fothergill when a gangly young man knocked on the doorframe and told them they were wanted in Autopsy. Apparently some of the wizards on the walls had got lucky and landed the medical team with a specimen to dissect.

As they walked through the narrow back streets and through arched doorways Sirius commented on the Professor being summoned for an Autopsy.

"It's because he'd Professor of Dialectics as well as Dynamic Spells, you see," answered the helpful Bennett.

Sirius nodded automatically, he could see a headache looming in his future with all the academic terms. Deciding he didn't like the future much he turned the nod into a shake and complained, "No. I don't see. What on earth are Dynamic Spells, and what's a dialectic? Why can't you people talk normally?"

Bennett laughed quietly and confided, "I was the same way when I arrived here. Six years later and its second nature. Basically Dynamic Spells are Charms, and a dialectic is an investigation into the truth of opinions or a logical discussion of ideas and opinions." Seeing Sirius's continued blank look, Bennett licked his lips and tried to simplify further, "He's an academic detective."

"Ohh, right," Sirius smiled, nodded, and held open the door of the building for his new best friend.

Inside two young men, clearly brothers from the similar noses, were being grilled by John Smith, the other Auror who'd been sent to Oxford with Sirius.

"So you just hit him with your staff and he landed on the iron railing?"

"Yes sir," Alec Grey replied.

"Sirius," greeted Smith, seeing him enter. He held out his hand to be introduced to the men accompanying the younger Auror but as he did the double doors behind him swung open. He turned and smiled at the green-gowned woman who came out, stripping the gloves from her hands.

She took in the collection of people waiting for a report on the body lying in her morgue and singled out the one person she recognised.

"Detective Smith, that is one very strange creature in there," she said, pointed back to Autopsy.

"Do you have an explanation for the colouring?" Detective John Smith asked, "And a cause of death?"

"Aside from the iron pole through his chest?" Sarah responded. She threw her gloves in the bio-hazard bin and said, "In medical terms he's been poisoned – systemic failure through inhibition of cardiopulmonary function."

Nest to Sirius the Professor nodded and hummed, pulling out a notebook from his robes and a pencil from behind his ear.

"And that's the reason for the...purple?"

"His system looks as though it's copper-based rather than iron," Sarah sighed, this was going to one mess of a report, "From the way the colouring graduates it looks as though he's been poisoned by the iron railing, but since he was already dead and metal poisoning takes considerable time I'm not going to hypothesise," she threw up her hands.

"Excuse me, but did you find stratification or sedimentation?" Fothergill asked, his pencil hovering over the page.

"Neither. Quite frankly this is the strangest homicide, the strangest creature, I've ever autopsied," Sarah replied. "If I was forced to comment I'd say that the iron bonded with his blood and stuck in his heart, causing it to fail. The colouring was probably to do with that. But with such a short time to do this, and no toxicology available because of the bomb scare..."

"Thank you Sarah. I'll keep you informed," Smith said, turning to herd the wizards from the building.

"You do that."

XoxoX

"This is good news isn't it?" Sirius asked as the two Aurors and four Academics settled into Professor Fothergill's office. "We can conjure iron things to fight, sit back and enjoy the show."

"Hardly!" scoffed Archibald, "To enact a sub-structural persistent morphic to constitute iron is an egregious idea."

Sirius blanched at the tone and turned to Bennett for a translation.

"It would be a bad idea."

"I got that bit, but, why?"

"The morphic properties of iron are ameliorated by the sub-structural transformation caused by successive annealing during the forging process," said Archibald, pulling books from his shelves and comparing pages to his notes, "Where did I deposit Mollington's – ah ha!"

"Railings, horseshoes, all the things that would work, are forged, and if you forge iron it makes it harder to do magical things to it," explained Bennett.

"You understood that?" muttered Sirius, turning as he was tapped on the shoulder.

"If you're alright here, I'm going to take these boys back out to the wall. I'd like to see these elves for myself," John Smith said, indicating the Grey brothers who had finished wolfing down some much needed lunch and were now looking a little bored.

Sirius nodded and waved his hand in assent. He may not understand what the Professor was blathering on about but with Bennett translating he was getting the gist. He only hoped he could come up with some half-decent questions that weren't too stupid. He turned back to Bennett and asked, "If you can't conjure it, what can you do to it?"

"Professor? Am I right in thinking Dynamics would work?" Bennett said, interrupting Fothergill's quest for knowledge.

He stopped and stared at the far wall for a moment, apparently examining an excellent watercolour depicting a sailing ship on high seas. Then he hummed and said slowly, "The only spells which would produce viable results are those who composite dynamic encapsulates the object rather than penetrating the core and producing a fundamental shift in the morphic field. So, yes." He sniffed and pulled another book off the shelf, flipping to the index before plunging into its depths with a satisfied noise.

Bennett turned to the blank-faced Sirius and said, "Charms would work but, uh, transfigurations wouldn't."

"Okay," Sirius acknowledged. He then held up two fingers and said, "I have two questions. One: what would happen if you tried to transfigure iron? And two: why don't you call them _Charms_?"

Fothergill tutted from his desk and replied, "Morphic spells, or transfigurations as you say, would cause a class one dispersion of the object over a geographic equidistance, often with removal of vitality within a certain proximity. As for your second question; Bennett, you deal with the first year students, I'm certain you've encountered this inconsistent view before."

"What?"

Bennett patted Sirius on the arm and handed him a biscuit. "Basically if you use a transfiguration on iron then you'd end up with the object exploding and killing people. Your people."

"Right, yes, but what did he mean 'inconsistent'? My view is very consistent!"

"He didn't mean it unkindly," Bennett said with a small smile. "It's just, um... You know in first year of school you're taught one view of how magic works?"

"Yes," Sirius said, suspicious that this was going to lead him to something he didn't understand.

"And by seventh year you're taught an entirely different view?"

"Yes."

"Well, in University you're taught that nothing you were taught in school is actually correct. Magic is a far more complex thing. And, uh," Bennett waved his hand towards himself, "by the time you get to PhD you have high-level dynamics, low-level dynamics, and quasi-morphic dynamics. It's all a bit complicated."

"Clearly," sighed Sirius. Suddenly he wished Remus or Lily were here, he was sure they'd be able to understand all this stuff a lot better than he was. He tried desperately to summarise what he'd deciphered, "So forged iron is resistant to magic, transfigurations would blow it up, but charms wouldn't. And I know nothing about magic."

"Yet you're the one who's been holding off the Dark Lord while we've sat in our ivory towers," mused Bennett, "Yes, everything you've said about iron is correct. What _I_ don't understand is why iron poisons elves. Professor?"

Fothergill slammed his book closed and scowled at it fiercely. "Nothing!" he exclaimed, "Oh, there are references in Mollington and Banastre, even in Lucian, and all agree: iron and magical creatures are fundamentally incompatible. But as to why? Nothing."

"It will work though, won't it? Attacking with iron will kill them?" Sirius asked worriedly.

"Oh, yes. The iron undoubtedly needs to enter the bloodstream for poisoning to occur. Touching the skin will burn but not kill them."

"Right. Good," Sirius sank back in his seat, relived.

"Professor," Bennett said, frowning as he recalled a discussion from his third year, "Surely high-level dynamic spells would broach the spacial net of the object producing disturbance in the flux ratio?"

Sirius looked at the PhD student in surprise. It seemed he could speak the academic language as well as the Professor, though what he'd said was bit of a mystery. Across the room Archibald began to laugh.

"Only if someone were stupid enough to use vitality based dynamics on a non-vital object!" he burst out, and shook his head. He turned away to gather his notes, still chuckling to himself.

Beside him Bennett smiled sheepishly until Sirius raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Using cheering charms on a rock is dumb," Bennett muttered.

"Ah," Sirius uttered, hiding his own smile. Even he knew that one.

XoxoX

While Sirius was debating the finer points of iron, John Smith and the brothers Grey had ascended a steep flight of stairs and entered a small stone room. The room was right above one of the very shut gates and contained half a dozen wizards and a few old arrow slits. Every now and again there was a desultory clatter as a spear was thrown at the narrow gaps.

A couple of pale-faced first years moved out of the way as Smith peered through and out to the elvish-taken city beyond the walls.

"You should be able to see the barricade down the main street from here," Alec said.

"What the muggles are doing we've no idea," added Edward, "But if they've got any sense they'll stay out of the way of our fireballs."

John could see the barricade – a sturdy wood and pilfered stone line behind which the occasional flicker of red hair and bronze helmets shone. He looked round, down the line of houses and road systems, across the pot holes and melting ice, and couldn't see the end of the elves. They just vanished beyond the curve of the wall, continuing their siege of the city.

"They're not venturing close," he said.

"Heh. Watch this," said Edward, and he motioned Smith out of the way so he could aim his staff through the arrow slit. With a whispered word a cold white light burst from the carved end and hurtled towards the ground. It impacted with a crackle and ice spread fast over a fifteen foot radius from the centre.

There was a moment of visual distortion then five sliding elves appeared near the edge of the frozen ground. They looked quite amusing, trying desperately to keep their balance on the ice as they hurried away from the site and back to safety. They weren't quick enough though as fireballs came hurtling from all quarters to catch them as they ran.

Smith stared from the window, impressed and a little disturbed. He took his mind off the sight below by asked quickly, "Some type of camouflage I take it?"

"A very sophisticated type of camouflage," Edward agreed.

"We just keep firing and keep both eyes open for when they reach the wall," Alec said.

"And the wall's solid? Continuous?"

"The gates, and where the Thames enters and exits, but the Spiritual Linguists have them covered."

XoxoX

It was dark and it was night. The battle had lasted all day and looked set to last many more. The elves had cut off all supply lines at sunset; a translucent barrier emerging from lodestones to splinch all apparators. With the floo network still down, the river routes blockaded, and gates having to remain firmly shut Oxford was officially under siege.

In a set of rooms in Gandr hall Sirius paced, still hashing out metallurgy and magic with Bennett and Fothergill. On the walls Smith had added his own wand to the fray, teaching Auror tactics as he went.

To the north-west of the isolated city a section of the river known locally as the Isis rippled its silent way under weeping willows and wooden jetties. There, lying under a solid stone bridge and towers, was an arch and a portcullis – the North Water Gate. The water flowed quietly through, unimpeded in its passage. Beyond lay reed beds, stark and still in the calm. Yet there, in the dark, a patch shifted and something descended into the black waters. Several somethings.

They moved through the water with nary a wake nor sound until they came to the portcullis. Then there was a long, drawn-out creak and groan which echoed under the arch. Heads poked out of windows above the gate, lights sent floating down to the water's edge. The groaning ceased. The lights faded away and the heads withdrew, shaking. A minute or two passed without disturbance, then there was a water-muffled pop and a series of ripples under the arch. The somethings moved on. Under the walls, down the river.

A heron stood crouched like an old man under a willow, its yellow eyes fixed on the water gate. It watched silently as the grass rustled and boards creaked; several wet patches forming on a jetty. The drips moved off, heading towards the Mound and the City Centre. The heron unfurled its neck and wings, thrust downwards and lifted skywards. It flew with clean strokes towards the old motte -the Mound – where a band of men waited around a fire.

It settled just outside the firelight and, with a shudder, old man heron became old man wizard. Joseph Cinerea strode into the circle of light and coughed lightly. Three men sprang up, challenging him with wands and amulets.

"They've breached the Water Gate; heading this way over the fields," he announced, "You'd best get a move on."

The dozen men, all now roused from half-slumber, picked up what they needed and jogged away down the side of the steep hill.

"Is there any cider left?" Joseph asked the air.

XoxoX

Sirius stood with John on the bank of the Isis, watching as the portcullis was raised and assessed. There was a man sized hole at the base, and the bodies of the intruders had all shown burnt hands. Clearly the elves had swum up, grabbed hold of the iron and pulled.

"Are you certain you have all the information?" John asked as a student dove into the water to retrieve the lost bars.

"Yeah. I'll get it to the right people. And, uh..." Sirius hesitated.

"I'll keep your secret," John assured.

"Thanks," Sirius said.

The diver emerged from the murky water, holding aloft a criss-cross lattice of ironwork. There was a hubbub from the rest of the people waiting on the banks as they helped him and his prize from the water. Several people took the iron bars and examined the ends, a muggle with a blowtorch taking particular interest.

John clapped Sirius on the shoulder and said, "Good luck." Sirius thanked him and John moved away to join the crowd.

Sirius waited until he was gone, then he stepped further back into the shadow of the willow and transformed. Sniffing the air Padfoot became aware of the city in a whole new way. The people, the river, the heron that had stood here hours ago, all became blindingly obvious to his nose. He trotted out from his tree, passing from cover to cover until he was up against the wall by the raised water gate. There were many wizards with wands trained on the area, so he slipped as silently as he could into the river and dived. Dogs didn't dive well, they preferred to swim on the surface in their charming doggy paddle, but Padfoot preferred not to be turned into a dog's dinner, so he dove under the water and swam as fast as he could.

Once on the other side he swam a short distance up the river until he reached a nice low muddy bank. Padfoot pulled himself out and shook rigorously, then, with a sniff of the air, he set off. All he had to do was get beyond the elvish lines and the anti-apparation barrier, then he could apparate to London and the Ministry. _All_. Padfoot sneezed. _Why did he always volunteer for the dangerous stuff?_

XoxoX

**So there you have it. Please remember to review. Even one word would be useful. LB**


	37. Remus and the Alphas

**A/N: Apologies for the delay, bit of a family emergency going on here. I may not be updating quite as regularly for a while. My continued thanks to all those who have Story Alerted, Reviewed, or Favourited this story. Keep reading. LB**

Chapter Eighteen

Remus Lupin stood in the middle of the forest glade and closed his eyes. He could hear the rustle of new spring leaves and the various calls of birds - invitations to mate or warnings to stay away. In the undergrowth the smell of a foxes den permeated past the sweet-smelling plants. Beyond his usual five sense Remus could detect the silent approaches of six other werewolves. He smiled and opened his eyes.

When Albus Dumbledore had asked him to contact the werewolf packs, to try to bring them over to their side, or at least away from the Dark Lord, Remus had never imagined this would be the result. A meeting between the seven strongest werewolves in the country. All Alphas, all powerful, all with an iron grip over their territory. Two muggles, five wizards; one woman, five men. And him. Not quite a werewolf anymore, but certainly not human. It was at his request that this was even happening, and Remus knew that the main reason they came was curiosity.

The first into the glade was a big man wearing studded black leather and a bland expression. He greeted Remus with a grunt and folded his arms to wait. He didn't have to wait long. Hot on his heels was a wiry man with pitch black hair and demanding eyes. On the other side a woman accompanied a strident man from Birmingham and a shaggy looking redhead who was speaking to her in a soft lilting Scottish brogue. They joined the circle and paused, each assessing the others. They knew of each other but a meeting of the Alphas was rare, rare enough that most had never met. Finally the last to arrive made his way into the circle, dark bags under his eyes and clear scars down one cheek.

"Shall we get on wit this, some o' us have more important things t' be doin," said the big man gruffly, his origins as clear as his Yorkshire accent.

"All of us have better things to do," murmured the woman.

"Yet you came, so let us hear what is to be said," the wiry Welshman said.

"We've all 'eard t' rumours comin from thy pack. Is it true?"

"Yes. Is it? You're really some kind of animagus werewolf?" asked the late-comer, his fingers twitching on his cuffs.

Remus looked around, nothing could get done until this was sorted, that much was written clear on the faces of all. Taking a deep breath he shrugged off his thin robe, leaving him in nothing but his loose shorts. The Cumbrian woman made an appreciative noise at his honed physique, and he shot her a glance before refocusing. The transformation started slow but quickly picked up speed and within a minute the man had become the wolf. Moony sat back on his haunches and took the opportunity to assess the others with his more acute senses.

The late-comer, from Norfolk, smelt of nerves yet the cause was not those around him. Moony didn't have to think hard to know what was bothering him, though. On his southern border lay the pack commanded by Greyback - and he was always looking to expand. The two Muggles: the Hell's Angel from Yorkshire and the businessman from Birmingham, were obviously different to Moony. There was a layer missing that was clearly present in all the others; magic changes people beyond the knowledge of wizards. Moony's main threat that he could see was the Welshman, he was intense and focused, and even as Moony looked towards him he looked back. If he couldn't bring him round to his was of thinking it could cause dissension.

Transforming back, Remus picked up his robe and waited for the inevitable question.

"How is that possible?" It was the woman who asked.

"The Wild Magic changed me," he replied, stopping the shrug of his shoulders before it began.

"It is true that there's more wild magic now than there was last moon, but the rumours have been abroad for longer than that," challenged the Welshman.

"I came in contact with the source of the wild magic two years ago," Remus explained, meeting his eyes.

"So you were there. In the place where the elves come from?"

"Yes. I was there."

"This is all very nice, I'm sure, and I think we can agree that if there was a way for this change t' occur t' all o' us we'd take it, but clearly there int," The Hell's Angel spread his arms in declaration. He was still a werewolf despite the increase in Wild Magic, and that didn't seem likely to change any time soon. "So what is t' tru' purpose o' this meetin'. You called us here."

"This is aboot the wee elves, isnae it?" The Scotsman interjected.

"Yes," Remus confirmed, "I have information."

"More than the rest of us," the Welshman muttered, the 'I bet' in his tone.

"If that's the case," the woman, overhearing the comment, asked, "Where did you get it?"

Remus took breath and said, "I am a member of the Order of the Phoenix, headed by Albus Dumbledore." There was a silence. Somehow he'd been expecting more of a response, but the clamour never came. Most seemed to take the announcement with calm 'so what' attitudes, though there were a few blank faces.

"Never heard of it," the Brummie said cheerfully.

"We were formed some time ago to fight back the Death Eaters. To do what the Ministry appeared incapable of doing and take on the greatest evil this country had seen in a hundred years," Remus said, trying to provoke a response now. He was sure that knowledge of the Order hadn't spread beyond a small minority, yet the reactions continued to disprove that. No one seemed shocked by his blatant slandering of the Ministry or of the fact that Dumbledore had set up his own fighting force.

"I'm sorry," the Brummie said holding up a hand, "But who is this Dumbledore? And why would be do that: set up a group of fighters. Is he some kind of Official Policeman guy, 'cause the Death Eaters? Them I know of."

"He is the Headmaster of Hogwarts School and High Mugwump of the Wizengamot."

"That I've heard of. Some of my pack are wizards," The Brummie looked over at the other Muggle and grinned. It was not returned.

"He's the one who sent you out isn't he?" said the Welshman slyly, "You're not truly an Alpha."

Hackles rose and growls resonated around the clearing. To challenge another wolf was fine, but to challenge the status of an Alpha like this was simply not done. Remus, fighting to control his instinctive reaction, snarled out, "I may have begun this on his order but I am not controlled by him. I didn't become leader of my pack by deceit, I did it the same way you all did: time, skill and power. I have as much right to stand here as any of you."

The hackles died down and calm eased its way back into the circle.

"He wanted you to help fight Greyback, didn't he?" asked the nervy Norfolk werewolf.

"Yes," snapped Remus.

"That doesnae really matter any more, sorry, but it doesnae. Not tae rest of us. It's your border, your problem. An' Ah don't imagine that ye speart us here tae deal wi' a body rogue an his pack."

"No, I didn't," Remus calmed himself. A threat to him was a threat to his pack, and the more time he'd spent with werewolves, the more he'd come to realise how important those bonds were. Taking a breath he centred himself and focused on the reason he called them here, "I called this meeting to ask you what your plans were with regards to the new evil that is stalking all our lands. The elves."

"Nothing," said the woman, "Nothing needs to be done. The Ministry will handle it."

"And if they don't?"

She shrugged, saying, "We're werewolves. We have nothing to fear from elves."

"How can you be sure?" Remus pressed, "I've seen the reports, heard from people who have fought them, and...has any one heard from the Somerset Pack lately?"

Sharp glances were exchanged, no one had heard any news from the South West and Remus knew it.

Timidly the Norfolk man spoke up, "Are you saying they'll attack us?"

"I think it's highly likely."

"Sae what dae ye want? Ye want us tae attack them? Ignorin' th' fact that they're at th' other end o' th' country-"

"For some of you."

"Not all of us are wizards, not all of us have magic t' defeat these creatures," interjected the Yorkshireman.

"Magic doesn't seem to be working on them actually," Remus said.

"What?", "How do we kill them then?", "Magic's not working?" The voices of the werewolves ran over each other, all protesting at Remus's statement, all worried now.

"We're wizards, not-"

"Muggles?" cut in the Brummie, "Excuse me, but what have you people been doing then?"

All eyes turned to Remus now, their only source of information, "There is a way to kill them," he revealed, "With iron. It poisons them."

"You mean swords?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean. Swords, iron railings, anything made of iron will work. One small cut and they die within seconds." Remus looked around and caught every man's eye, "If we don't fight them they'll overrun the country and there won't be any room for werewolves, wizarding or otherwise. But I wasn't thinking of us fighting them now. I was thinking of attacking them in two weeks. Why use weapons we're unfamiliar with when we have a whole host of weapons available to us every month?"

There was silence. Remus had been thinking about this for a while. He hadn't talked to anyone about it. Albus thought that this meeting was just to ascertain the mood of the werewolves, whether they would side with them against the elves, but Remus had been planning this move since first he heard about the elves coming through. He even wondered if it had been in the back of his mind ever since that day when the doors were opened and he heard the army marching their way. With just one aware wolf at the front of the joined packs the power of nearly a hundred werewolves could be directed, directed right at the elves.

"It's a nice idea. But, Remus, You're forgetting one vital point. Werewolf packs don't work together," the Welshman snorted, "Wolf packs don't work together. There's tension here and there's only seven of us. Get all our packs together and there'll be bloodshed alright. Our blood."

Remus nodded, he knew the difficulties his idea presented. He also knew that the elves would leave none of them alive, and the werewolves of Britain, blighted as they were, deserved to survive as much as any wizard. He looked up at the half moon and then around at the men and woman standing with him, and said, "If we don't work together then we will fall."

XOXOX

Remus paused in the hall, listening to the conversation that was going on within the meeting room at Order Headquarters. He had travelled back to London once his meeting was done only to find a note waiting for him requesting his presence in the Hebrides. There was one word on the note that had seriously peaked his interest: Tintagel. He'd entered the house expecting to find it a hive of

activity, but everyone was gone. It had taken the sound of voices for him to discover where this new

meeting was taking place.

"We don't know that there is a traitor," James emphasised from the meeting room.

"We know that there's been a lot of nasty coincidences in the last year, coincidences that can't

have happened without inside information."

That was Sirius, and he sounded determined to get across his point. Remus could easily imagine him pacing across the floor, gesturing emphatically.

"Even if there is a traitor, and I'm not saying whether there is or isn't, but if there is - we

don't know who it is, and we can't just go round accusing people."

Lily, making peace as best she could.

"He's been absent whenever there's been a _problem_, and he's been, well, secretive lately," Sirius

said.

"So just because someone's keeping secrets they're automatically a traitor now? I've been keeping

secrets. You've been keeping secrets. Even Lily's been keeping secrets. Are you saying that we're

all traitors? It's human nature, Sirius," James pointed out.

"He's not exactly human," Sirius muttered.

"Not?" James said in a strangled voice, "I would have thought that you of all people would know

that Remus being a werewolf doesn't matter."

"James is right," Lily said quietly, "We have all had reason to be the traitor, if there is one, at

some point. I don't think Remus would betray us. I trust him."

"Thank you Lily," Remus said, coming into the room. Sirius jumped in surprise, a guilty look on his

face. James came swiftly round the table to give him a quick handshake and shoulder pat.

"Good to see you," he said.

Remus nodded and smiled at James and Lily, giving the latter a quick hug. Then he met eyes with

Sirius and raised an eyebrow. Sirius made a sorry-but-it-had-to-be-said gesture, and gave him a flat

smile. There was too much history between them for an easy reunion, but Remus couldn't be bothered to stay annoyed at the darker man. He returned the smile with a nod and sat down at the table, James and Lily on his right, Sirius on his left.

"Ah, excellent, you've arrived. How was the meeting, Remus?" Albus came in with a serious expression on his face. He greeted the others, but looked expectantly at Remus.

"I think it was successful," Remus said guardedly. He may have informed Albus about some of his

dealings with the other werewolves, but he had gradually grown more and more protective of a world that was his and his alone. He changed the subject hastily, not wanting more inquiry in that

direction, "I got the note telling me to come here. I understand this has something to do with

Tintagel?"

"Yes," Albus took a seat at the head of the table and summoned some tea.

"Apparently we all picked up a brand new host of powers when we were there," Sirius said, lazily

summoning a scone from the tray as he spoke.

James nodded, "I was recently stabbed by an elf-"

"Are you alright?" Remus asked.

"I'm fine. That's the point. It healed rather quickly," James continued with a grimace.

"It healed almost completely overnight," snorted Lily, still annoyed that James hadn't told her

about his healing ability. She knew she hadn't told him about her power either, but somehow making light without magic didn't seem as important as being to heal from life-threatening wounds.

"And Lily can do wandless magic," James shot back, hearing the annoyance in her tone.

"Yes, well..."

"And Sirius?"

"Sirius is less effected by spells than he used to be," Sirius shared with a grin.

"I have some ideas on how this came to be, but I wonder if you have any insight, Remus, considering the effect that night had on you," Albus said, leaning forward to fix Remus with his sparkling blue gaze.

Remus felt a little trapped as the others shot inquiring words or looks at him, and trapped

werewolves were never happy. He knew why he hadn't told anyone outside the Packs that he could

control his transformation, but he didn't really want to admit it to himself, let alone his oldest

friends.

"Remus?" Lily gently asked, the kindness and understand in her voice cutting through his discomfort and fear.

"I...have my own mind when I'm transformed, and can control when that transformation occurs," he

said, closing his eyes as the inevitable exclamations rang out. When he opened them again he found

that Albus hadn't moved, his eyes still fixed on him. It was disconcerting, as if the old wizard

could see through him, right into his heart. For a moment he was lost in that light blue and deep

understanding, then he snapped out as Sirius asked a pointed question.

"Are you still a werewolf?"

"Oh. Yes, of course I am. I'm just no longer tied to the moon. I don't think it's the same as being

an Animagus, but it's a lot better than it was," Remus looked back at Albus and tried to answer his

first question, "I do have an idea about this, you're right. Being a magical creature I'm more aware

of the differences between magics, and, uh, when those Doors opened it wasn't wizarding magic. It

was Wild Magic. I thought it had only effected me, because I'm a werewolf."

"Wild magic..." Albus trailed off into thought, but none of the others were really paying attention.

"Why didn't you tell us?" asked James.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Remus snapped back.

"Where have you been? Is this what you were doing? Learning to control this?" Sirius butted in

before James could reply.

"No! I've...I've been with my own kind. I have a Pack now," Remus defended his absences.

"Is that why you're different?" Lily said.

"Different?"

"You're more...confident."

Remus laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. She thought he was more confident? He looked at the

guys and could see that they agreed with Lily, they thought he'd changed too. "Did you think I'd

stay that meek bookworm who was scared of his own shadow forever? If I've changed, become more confident, then I'm glad. I've got things, people in my life now, I-" He cut himself off, forcing

his shoulders down, to relax slightly. There was no threat here, not from these people. His first

pack. "I'm not scared anymore, of myself. I can live now. I didn't want to tell you because..."

"Because then it would be real and it might go away," Lily finished for him. James looked at her in

curiosity, he hadn't know that that was how she had felt. Lily smiled sideways at him and gave a

shrug. Remus nodded, holding her eyes and mouthing a thank you.

Sirius sighed and sat back in his chair. "That leaves just one question," he said, a growing grin on

his face as he could see James and Remus coming to the same place as him. They could all run

together again in their Animagus forms and this time there would be no danger. But just as he saw

the idea blooming in their faces he turned to Albus and asked, "How did we get to be like this?"

Albus smiled at the change in direction and said, "Wild magic has a way of reorganising things. It

is a totally uncontrollable force that has no agenda or pattern. However, it is effected by the

wizarding mind." He looked around at the generally understanding faces that had been more changed than anyone else by the events of that night, "I believe that whatever you were thinking at the moment the doors opened, releasing the Wild Magic-"

"And the elves," interrupted Sirius.

The old wizard acknowledged the interruption and went on, "What you were thinking determined how the magic manifested."

"Are you saying that because I was thinking that I wanted to change right then and, er, remove the

threats, I became able to change at any time?" Remus asked, leaning forward in intense interest.

"I believe so, though you must accept that I may not be entirely accurate," Albus said spreading his

hands. No one believed him for a moment; the Headmaster of Hogwarts always knew more than he would tell and was always right.

"I was rather focused on healing," James mused, his eyes drifting, not seeing the wood panelled

walls as he looked into his memory of that moment. Lying on the floor of the cavern, vaguely hearing Lily next to him shouting at Snape, the blood pouring out of him, and an intense desire to be whole, "But I was hit by a spell not a...object."

"Was the cause of your wound foremost in your mind?" Albus asked gently, prompting James back into thought.

Sirius got up and began pacing across the floor again, turning the idea over in his mind as he

sorted through the pieces of the puzzle. He had been standing at the Doors, Key in hand, Imperius

curse forcing him. Through his mind had floated the desperate thoughts of getting free from the

spell, of not being affected by magic. The Doors had opened, there had been a wave of something, the sound of an army and he'd passed out. From then... he tried to recall if he'd been immune to spells at all before then, but nothing jumped out at him. Afterwards there were any number of incidents, each more obvious than the last when he started looking for them.

"How far do you think this goes? Is it done now?" Sirius saw the confusion on James's face and

question in Albus's eyes and explained further, "Two years ago I could get hit by the nastier curses

and hexes and they'd have an effect. Now, they don't. It's like we, I've been growing into this,

getting more resistant as time goes on. Is it going to continue? Am I going to end up totally... invulnerable?"

"I do not think so. Tintagel has now reappeared in this world, and in doing so has stabilised the

amount of Wild Magic flowing out of the elven lands. Whatever the level of your healing abilities is

currently is most likely the level at which it shall remain," Dumbledore thought aloud.

From where she was sitting, slightly stunned, Lily held out a hand and made a light appear. She

stared at it, the light remaining behind her eyes whenever she blinked. She heard the explanations

and discussions continue on around her but paid them no mind. She had spent a lot of time of the

last couple of years talking to Ollivander about the various types of magic, and Wild Magic had been of particular interest. Its unpredictable nature, the way it changed anything it came into contact with, had made her wonder if it was the origin of all wizards. This magic she now had; put in a muggle would it make them like she had been - a witch? Passed down from generation to generation, magic lingered in the blood. Lily frowned, would that mean that her children would have this power?

"Will it remain with us? In our blood?" she asked Albus quietly.

He fixed her with a knowing look, understanding her real question, "I do not know," he responded

just as quietly.


	38. Battle at Goring

**Happy Birthday to me, here is a chapter for thee.**

**Please review**

Chapter Nineteen

**Minister declares State of Emergency**

_Head Auror calls for Volunteers_

"Your Country Needs You!"

The villages of Goring and Streatley had been evacuated, the Muggles fed the line of an IRA bomb threat. Ministry officials had gone through, house to house, and now retreated to the growing line of wizards. There, south of the villages and on the bank of the Thames, wizards scuttled back and forth preparing the ground. Up on the dyke, west of the sharp bend in the river, lines of sight were assessed and positions marked. All the Aurors and Volunteers would be arriving soon, two hundred wizards against the oncoming tide. The elves had crossed the river at Wallingford upstream, joining the old Icknield Way as it turned south to Salisbury. Here, at Goring Gap, the wizards had a chance of stopping them. The river bent twice, cutting under a cliff on one side and hemmed by the dyke on the other. The elves would be forced into a bottleneck as they tried to cross the river for a second time.

It was a grey day and no one could tell that it was mid-morning when the echoing sounds of apparation began to be heard. The Volunteers, among them Benjy Fenwick, Marlene McKinnon, Lily Evans, were sent immediately up to the top of the dyke. It wasn't expected that they would have to fight hand-to-hand, the ditch and back made a fourteen foot high trap for any enemy. From there they could cast long range spells and provide magical assistance from above.

The Aurors, those who weren't in St. Mungo's or worse, made up the front line on the South side of the river. There was a railway bridge here, and it was here that they expected the elven blow to fall hardest. Towards the east of the line Sirius and James wandered up and down the grassy field, noting the rabbit holes and obliterating annoying rocks.

"This thing is damned uncomfortable," said James, adjusting the sword hanging from his side for the tenth time.

"You'll be thankful for it later," Sirius replied, his left hand resting on the pommel of his own sword.

"Who knew there were that many iron weapons in Gringotts."

"Yeah."

Another rock vanished into dust and Sirius fidgeted with his wand, nerves creeping in as he looked around for the next lump of stone.

"Sirius?"

"Yeah?"

"If we don't get out of this-"

"Oh no!" Sirius spun on his friend, finger wagging underneath his nose, "We are not doing that. We're not saying goodbye. We are both going to get out of this, you are going to marry Lily and name me godfather of all your sprogs. Alright?"

James laughed lightly and said, "Alright!" They started walking again, the grass springy under their feet. As they climbed a small rise he added, "_All_ my sprogs? How many am I having?"

-X-

In Edge Hill Manor the atmosphere was tense, people hurrying back and forth. Outside one room a line had formed of black robed men and women picking up all manner of iron items. The news had arrived two nights ago that the metal poisoned elves once it got into their bloodstream. Since then the well-oiled Death Eaters had stripped homes, offices and parks of all available weapons. Lord Voldemort swept through, his cloak slung over his arm. He nodded at a few men who bowed out of his way. Behind him Lucius stretched his legs in an attempt to keep up with his swift pace. The main doors swung open before them and Voldemort stepped out into the overcast day. Lifting the cloak to his shoulders Voldemort looked around at the lightly sparring pairs scattered over the lawn.

"Make sure they don't overwork," he commanded.

"Yes my lord," Lucius said, adding it to his growing mental list, "My lord I could come with you, relay more precise information."

"No," Voldemort replied, his eyes finding the slim form of Morrigan laughing at Snape sparring with Goyle, "I will go alone. You are needed here, Lucius," he said, turning to the fretting blond, "See that Le Fay is taken somewhere safe. She is important - her information."

"Yes my lord. Perhaps my home?" Lucius offered, frowning internally at the odd wording towards Morrigan. Voldemort had seemed a little off lately, even a touch awkward around her. And there were rumours that he had been heard singing!

"With your wife. Yes," Voldemort nodded, assured that the elves would be unable to penetrate Malfoy Manor and if they did that his daughter would have adequate protection. _His daughter_, he shook his head for a second; he still wasn't used to that fact. Mentally refocusing he pulled up his hood and said, "I shall call when the time is right."

Lucius bowed and watched as he passed though the gates and disapperated. Then he turned and strode over to where Severus had casually disarmed Goyle and was now holding him off with little flicks of his rapier.

"Severus? A word?" he called.

The black haired man scored another hit, held up his left hand to stop Goyle lumbering forwards and jammed the rapier into the soft soil. "Lucius?"

Beckoning him over to an empty spot under a tree Lucius put up one of Snape's rather good muffling charms and asked bluntly, "Have you dreamed about today?"

Severus folded his arms and looked a little uncomfortable. "Yes," he replied shortly. He had hoped that since Morrigan was now under his care the dreams would stop and he could forget all that Seer nonsense. Once again luck was not with his though; he still had been dreaming about the elves, though not all of the information he received was useful.

"And?" Lucius pressed.

"They will fail without our assistance."

"That's it?" Lucius questioned after a pregnant pause.

"Yes," Snape tried to avoid saying anything else but the look on his friend's face was not a happy one. Reluctantly he gave in and explained, "I was woken up." His eyes drifted over to where Morrigan had retreated away from the action and was picking at the hem of her sleeve, clearly nervous around others without him.

Lucius followed his gaze and smiled knowingly, "Ah. I see."

"It isn't- we're not-" Severus stuttered before turning away in a huff, annoyed that his aloof exterior had been broken so easily.

"It's alright my friend," Lucius said, still smiling as he clapped him on the shoulder, "She's to join Narcissa at the Manor. Lord Voldemort's orders. In fact," Lucius felt a Slytherin pride at his idea. "Would you take her? You know the way."

Somehow Severus felt he'd been backed into a corner that he hadn't even known was there. If he asserted his independence and said 'no' Lucius would infer that he wasn't interested in Morrigan, he would undoubtedly mention it to Narcissa and for an inexplicable reason tell Morrigan, which would lead to an uncomfortable conversation. And if he said 'yes' then...urgh, this was the reason he hated relationships: it was a minefield of craziness.

"Fine," he scowled, trying to sound as neutral as possible. At least if he stayed close to her he could stop the craziness before it began. Right?

-X-

Up on the dyke they heard the army coming before they saw it. The creak of leather, jingle of armour and voices raised in marching song. Lily double checked the bucket of make-shift arrowheads before her. Fifty for each dyke defender, with more being forged or stolen back in London just in case this failed. It couldn't fail though, they had to hold the elves at Goring. It was the perfect place; a bottleneck with only one way out – through them.

A hand upon her shoulder made her register the presence of Alice. She shared a worried look with her best friend before looking out over the land again, searching for the first visible signs of the enemy.

"Everyone's in place," murmured Alice, "When they emerge from Goring we begin firing."

Lily nodded, she knew the drill, though that didn't stop her nerves. "I can't see them yet."

Alice lifted her hand and pointed at what Lily had taken to be a stand of trees moving in the wind. "There's no wind," Alice said, "They've reached the outskirts of Goring."

Lily's stomach did a back-flip as she realised that this was it. Alice patted her on the shoulder again and moved off to check on the other Volunteers and Order members.

-X-

The first spells arched out from the dyke and front line as morning turned to afternoon. The elves had filtered though Goring, some crossing the river to Streatley, and now formed massed ranks marching on either side of the Thames in the narrow gorge.

From up on a steep hill of the west side Voldemort watched, hidden among the covering trees. He would only call the Death Eaters when the time was right. If he put them in the field before the Ministry forces were fully engaged then Crouch could decide to fight on two fronts. That would be a disaster – no army with so few numbers could win against two enemies. Briefly he wondered whether leaving them to their fates was a better idea, but he swiftly dismissed it. The Ministry may not want his help, but he didn't want a country full of elves.

Suddenly, a band of elves broke through the raining barrage of spells to plunge into the cool river. They never came out the other side, iron projectiles sent flying their way making sure they didn't rise from the waters. Below him the regiment of elves who'd crossed at Streatley found themselves trapped between the steep hill, the river and the defenders on the dyke. Many fell to fire and iron, but many more took their place. It was a nightmare scene; fires burning on the north side of the Thames, steam rising from melted patches of ice, and through it all the screams and war cries of thousands of determined fighters.

The line South of the river was holding, but Voldemort could see that the dyke, though steep, was going to come under serious attack soon. There was a battalion of elves making their way up the centre of the column with ladders and bridges, and the trees below the dyke hid any elves who got past the hailstorm of arrows. That was where he needed to be.

-X-

Down in the valley Frank singed another elf's hair then pocketed his wand and drew his sword. He was fighting between Robertson and a blond haired Auror he'd never met. Before them ran the railway line, bridging the river as it sped south. The elves had collected here, fighting to cross the Thames. Frank lashed out inexpertly with the blade, only to have it caught on the sword of an elf and forced down. He ducked as a second, shorter blade sliced over his head. Yanking his sword clear of the soldier's he struck out again, aiming for the head. His blow went wild but the tip caught the elf on the cheek. Immediately purple began to spread from the tiny nick. The elf staggered, clutching his face before falling. Frank prayed for a breather, but the space just filled again, a never-ending tide of elves sweeping his way.

-X-

Lily fired flight after flight of iron into the elves, each piece directed with care to hit as many as possible. Fire and ice flew from her wand, carving great holes in the main body of the army over the river. All around her the sounds of war rang out. She had expected her fear to grow as she began to kill, but instead it receded, her mind growing focussed on the repetition of action. Fire a spell, lift an arrow, find a target, send iron soaring, begin again. Her emotions hardened as she saw their fierce faces and angry gaze.

Below her the regiment who had crossed the river were slowly being taken out by the defenders, but they were still advancing. They'd reached the bottom of the ditch and were laying their ladders up the slope to ease the scramble to the top of the embankment when Lily heard Alice cry out, "Defend your position! Defend the dyke!"

Panic struck Lily for just a second; without the Order's magical attacks into the body of the army the defenders along the river would be under greater pressure. James was down there. The panic passed as she saw an elf clinging from a tree in his attempt to climb and reach her. She couldn't let him pass. Aiming, she sent a fire spell to meet him, the wave of heat reaching her as he burnt and fell back.

-X-

Moody heard the cry from the top of the dyke and ordered a push of his own. Stationed where the dyke descended to the river near a water-bound island, his troops acted as a brace against the hills.

Spells were fired, sent arching high into the sky to come sizzling down across the river. The back line kept up the spells, while the front line hacked at all those who made it through the battle fields and the water.

By now the river was filling with purple bodies and red blood, and as Moody cut down another elf he wondered if there could ever be an end. Swivelling on his good leg he saw the two elves sprinting towards him, war cries in their throats. He snapped out an ice spell which took out one, but the second jumped the beam of white light and brought his sword down.

-X-

Severus felt his mark burn and knew it was time to leave. He stood, gave a few last words of comfort to Narcissa and Morrigan, and swept out into the garden. He had known this would happen, he had already seen it in his dream. The elves would fight fiercely, pushing back the Aurors and members of the Order, and when they were in danger of breaking they would arrive. The Death Eaters. Ready to fight and kill, they would push them back.

Squaring his shoulders Severus took a breath and pulled out his white mask. He was about to follow the tugging in his left arm and apparate to Lord Voldemort's side when he felt a quiet touch. He looked down slightly and into the worried eyes of Morrigan.

"Please be safe, and...come back...whole," she said softly.

"I know how to fight," he assured her, "I will not fall."

She nodded slightly and barely vocalised, "Good."

That one word, laden as it was with hope and need, made Severus's throat close with emotion. He found himself desperately wanting to tell her that it would be alright, that there was no danger, despite the truth. So caught was he by the unexpected emotions that he hardly registered her standing on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. It was only as she looked back at him as she walked away that he realised he was standing there like a lovestruck fool. He quickly put on his mask and apparated to Goring and safety.

-X-

The elves were trying to breach the defences east of the bridge, piling across the river and running the gauntlet of spells and flying iron. Sirius stopped a blow to his torso and hit out, smashing his fist into his opponents face. The soldier staggered back then swept his sword down in a cross slice. Sirius parred hurriedly, creating an opening that James plunged his sword into. A new hoard were pouring across the Thames, wading through the bodies of their fallen and the red-running river. James caught the next blow and Sirius turned away to dance with a helmeted warrior.

Captain Donn met the flurry of inexpert blow with his double short swords, sliding the iron blade away from him. Stepping in he turned the iron to one side and slashed in with his other sword, opening a deep cut in the hastily raised arm. Sirius snarled at the wound and battered Donn's defences.

With two blades and decades of training Donn wasn't going down easily. He circled Sirius's sword with his own, darting in to place his bronze blade in the wizard's ribs. But before his blade touched flesh a piercing in his side made him howl and turn. James had crowded in and struck out at the skilled Captain. The pain swept from the wound and he felt his blades slipping. Captain Donn looked back at Sirius just in time to see the iron sword sweeping down.

Sirius kicked aside the decapitated body and turned a snarling face on the throng before him. These creatures had taken the one person he loved from him and they would pay.

-X-

Falling back to the rise behind him, Frank let the men sweep by to bolster the defence of the bridge. It was going well, the elves were determined but the hills funnelled them making it easier for the Ministry forces to pick them off. Frank stopped to catch his breath and grab a drink of water; battling with swords was a lot harder than fighting with wands and magic.

It was as he was looking out over the embattled landscape, noting how there were still thousands of elves between them and freedom, that he saw the light. It arched out from the dyke in one giant green curve, like a flight of brilliant arrows. It hit the elves just behind their front line felling them with a single touch. After a moment of wide-eyed staring Frank's training kicked in, and his mind started cycling through possible spells even as he raced to the top of the rise. Green light, _that_ green light could only be one thing: _the Killing Curse._

-X-

Lucius fired curse after curse, mixing in bolts of _Dragonfyre_ and _Haelstorm_ with the lethal Unforgiveable. Between the trees to his left he could make out the furious form of Voldemort, other masked Death Eaters around him, fighting with those elves that scaled the dyke. The Volunteers and Aurors charged with defending this wall of earth had been shocked to see the hundred Dark Wizards arrive, but their leader, a young woman with short brown hair, had quickly seen that they weren't a threat to any except the elves. At the moment that was. As Lucius directed the spell fire he had seen the woman's eyes on him making sure their lethal spells all went in the same direction.

Snapping out another well aimed Killing Curse Lucius tracked the line of elves to the west.

"They're holding them back," Severus said beside him, taking advantage of the pause to do his own assessment.

"A volley in their midst would scatter them," Lucius replied. It seemed he wasn't the only one to see that, since as he spoke a wave of _Dragonfyre_ swept out from the trees, hurtling towards the centre of the Streatley contingent, burning everything in its path.

"That worked," said Severus, almost certainly smirking behind his mask.

"If only is would against them," Lucius said, indicating their target of the main army to the north-east.

"Too many elves." Severus shook his head before bringing his wand up again and snapping out a series of _Avada Kadavra_s. The bolts of death were well placed, killing a band of elves trying to cross the river higher up to outflank Moody's band of wizards.

-X-

Upon the rise behind the strong Auror line Bartemius Crouch listened to the hurried reports of Dorcas Meadows, one of the Volunteers who had responded to the Ministry's call. There were Death Eaters upon the dyke, and more than that, Lord-you-know-who had been seen. A fire lit within the punctual heart of Barty; here was a chance. A chance to take out both their enemies in one blow. They were holding the line against the elves, those creatures would continue to smash themselves against the rocks of the Ministry without wearing it away. Call back a small band, and they could climb the dyke, capture you-know-who and end the years of war now. Without a leader the Death Eaters would scatter, divided among themselves.

-X-

James couldn't believe his ears when the order came for his platoon to draw back. They were holding, yes, and the rain of death from the dyke was helping them keep the elves on the other side of the river. But there was no way they could afford to leave. He wasn't on the rise though, he didn't have all the information.

Running alongside Sirius, James followed the rest as they curved away from the front line and up behind the dyke. The plan was simple: attack the Dark forces at the point where Lord Voldemort was fighting, capture or kill him, then take as many Death Eaters as possible. In his heart James feared the plan was too simple, if Voldemort could be taken down so easily it would have been done a long time ago.

-X-

They reached a clearing just behind the tree-covered bank and paused to review what little information they had. It was quickly decided that they would spilt into three groups of four and come at the twenty yard stretch from several angles. James and Sirius loped off with their partners to curve up from the left.

Plunging back into tree cover Sirius felt the noise from the battlefield begin to grow once more. Down below the dyke the screams of metal and of men had been muffled. Here it assaulted him from every angle, the sounds bouncing around the gorge until the battle raged on every side. He ran on, now able to see black figures moving against the darkening trees. The sun had moved on above its duvet of clouds sending murky afternoon light to filter through the thick woods.

Suddenly a white-masked figure stepped out before him and yelled, "Aurors to the rear!" The attack was swift, Sirius's wand flashing as he battled the Death Eater to the ground, but the cry had altered others and now more turned and met the small groups of Aurors.

-X-

Hiding behind a tree Peter watched wide-eyed as his old friends fought his new masters. They were a whirlwind of spells and swords and fists, some encounters lasting seconds, others stretching to frightening minutes. Peter's emotions warred within him, the terrifying groans and screams all around gluing him to the tree, unable to move or think.

Focused on the Aurors ahead of him Peter didn't see the fighting men behind. A stupefying bolt flew out, hitting a Death Eater square on. He wobbled and fell, right back into Peter. Peter squealed and jumped away, fear lending energy to his legs as he began to run. The eyeholes of his concealing mask obscured his vision. Panicking he reached up and ripped it off, throwing it down as his short legs carried him away.

-X-

Sirius looked round at the sound of a familiar squeal – he'd heard it a million times at school. Peter Pettigrew. Sirius searched the faces around him, seeing plenty he knew and many more white-masked. A running Death Eater caught his eye, and as he reached up and wrenched the mask from his face Sirius stopped in his tracks. That was him. Peter. In Death Eater robes.

Information flew through his brain, pieces of a puzzle he'd had no picture to coming together. It all made a sudden, horrible sense. Peter was the traitor, Peter knew all their plans, Peter had been... He'd been there. When Beatrice died. He'd known her parents would return home. _He'd told them!_

Fury blossomed in Sirius's chest, spreading through his limbs, blinding him to all else. Abandoning his Auror mission Sirius took off after the man he'd called friend. He had no thought of what he'd do when he caught him, the anger blotted out all thought, all reason. Catching him, that was key. His blood thundered with it: catch him, catch the traitor.

-X-

Along the hill they raced, Peter now aware that there was someone after him. He didn't look back; he didn't care who was trying to catch him, only that he didn't succeed. Between trees and through groups of Order members and Death Eaters they ran. Peter tripped, stumbled, forced himself back up. Sirius's eyes narrowed, his vision focused on that black flapping cloak and rotund form. His legs worked automatically, jumping roots and leaping pot holes.

Crashing out of the trees into a clearing the pair sped up. Sirius now certain he could catch the rat. Suddenly Peter fell, his foot caught in a rabbit hole. He tried to scramble up but his foot was trapped. Peter twisted it frantically, hearing the heavy breathing of his chaser gaining on him. Finally it slipped free and he leapt forwards, only to be brought crashing to the ground again.

Sirius flipped him over wanting to see the fear and knowledge in his eyes before he beat him to a pulp.

"S-Sirius!" Peter yelped, utterly horrified.

"You betrayed her," Sirius growled out, smashing a fist into his face, "You told them she was leaving!" His other fist crushed Peter's nose, the smaller man's hands desperately coming up to defend himself even as he tried to utter denials.

"No! No!"

Sirius saw red, his world contracted, his fists flying as he screamed, "YOU LET HER DIE!"

Hands and arms around his torso lifting him off Peter made him flail wildly until he was dumped unceremoniously upon the ground and a wand levelled at him. The red mist across his vision pulled back as he followed the wand to a face. James. Breathing heavily, and clutching a stitch in his side.

"We take him to Azkaban," James said firmly.

Sirius shook his head madly, clawing his way up only to be pushed away by a determined James. He wanted blood. He wanted revenge.

"We take him to Azkaban," James said again, placing a restraining hand on his shoulder.

Sirius glowered, but with James's calm, steady gaze boring into him he felt he had no choice but to agree. The rage died to a mutinous anger and he defiantly turned away, not wanting to even look at the stinking traitor. James moved away, presumably to restrain the prisoner. Sirius looked up towards the tree line and felt as though he'd had a bucket of icy water poured on his head.

"James! Incoming!" he cried out.

Backing out of the trees came Death Eaters, Aurors, and trained Order members, all fighting the onslaught on elves, and each other. Spell fire lit the eaves of the woods and James rushed to join Sirius who was already arching fireballs into the bronze-covered elves.

Suddenly there was the sound of a horn and the elves stopped, not leaving the safety of the woods as they melted away. Rather than cheering or going after them, the Aurors turned fully on the Death Eaters and a full magical battle commenced.

James and Sirius found themselves facing all three LeStranges, and Sirius felt the anger rise in him again. Charging in Sirius threw curse after curse, utilising his resistance to spells at every turn.

Beside him James fought, his own turbulent thoughts drowned by the adrenaline flowing through him. He brought his heavy sword down on the fragile handguard of Rabastan's blade, forcing him to drop it. In response Rabastan snapped out a binding hex. James swayed to the side, dodging the hex, and came back with a firm, "_Stupefy_!" But the Death Eater used his own tactics against him, avoiding the curse and throwing his own. James held a shield firm against the series of curses Rabastan sent until the unmasked man cried, "_Crucio!_"

James fell to his knees, his insides screaming in pain. Then it was over. His breath coming in gasps, James surged through the vestigial agony, his sword thrust forwards to skewer Rabastan through. The Death Eater staggered back, sword stuck through his chest. With a last breath, his eyes glazing, he brought up his wand and gasped, "_Avada Kadavra!_"

James ducked as the green light shot towards him, it skimmed his head and vanished behind. Staggering, James pulled his sword from the corpse and looked around. The Death Eaters were falling back, disapperating before the Aurors could stop them. He couldn't see Peter, the slimy traitor must have escaped in the furore.

There was someone lying on the ground behind him, someone with black hair. James walked then ran over, a name bursting from his lips, sword and wand dropping from his hands as he fell to his knees.

"No! Sirius! NO!" Sirius's head lolled as he was lifted, and James screamed to the heavens. "NO!"

-X-


	39. Pied Piper

**A/N: I promise that the next chapter will be: a) longer, b) up faster, and c) rather exciting. LB**

Chapter Twenty

As soon as James turned his back, Peter started escaping. His hands were bound and his wand had been taken, but that didn't pose a problem for him. Smiling mirthlessly at the irony – using a skill taught by his friends to escape them – he transformed. With four paws and beady eyes Wormtail took off through the grass away from the battle. It was only when the sounds and smells had completely receded behind him, and the world had grown darker, that he transformed back. One apparation later and Peter was back in his 3-room flat.

He just wanted to sink into a chair with a nice hot cup of tea and try to forget everything. He touched his nose gingerly and looked appalled at the blood on his fingers. Shuffling into the en-suite Peter stared at the image in the mirror. His nose was broken, a blood trail smeared across his face, the flesh around his eyes was swollen, telling of black eyes to come, his lip was cut and he had mud plastering the back of his head and both ears. He looked like he'd been beaten up. Peter laughed a little painfully at the thought. He _had_ been beaten up, and perhaps, a small part of him thought, he deserved it.

Running water over a clean cloth Peter started to get the worst of the blood and mud from his face. Every time he nudged his nose, however accidentally, it shot searing pain right into his brain, but without a wand there was nothing he could do.

A wand.

Peter dropped the bloody cloth into the sink and went out into his bedroom. He stood for a long moment, looking round, trying to remember where he'd put it. Then he went over to the dresser and pulled the top drawer right out, dumping the contents all over his bed. There, among the socks and t-shirts, was a wand. Peter picked it up unhurriedly and stared at the 'MP' monogram on the handle for a second before returning to the bathroom.

Later, his nose healed somewhat, Peter sat in his most comfortable chair with a cup of tea clasped in his hands and tried to figure out his next move. His friends knew he had betrayed them and the Order, James wanted to send him to Azkaban! He couldn't go back to the Death Eaters, he was a liability.

"Not that I want to," he muttered. And the elves were winning. All in all not a good situation. "What I need is a plan. A good plan. A cunning plan." For a brief moment Peter wished he was back at school, a part of the Marauders where others made the plans and he just followed them. It was like a game of chess, no, draughts, no tennis, no, oh he was no good at sports analogies.

"Three groups. One of whom hates me. One is evil, and the other doesn't need me. Maybe..." Peter got up and poured himself some more tea, absently picking up a biscuit on the way. "If the Death Eaters and the elves weren't around them..." He munched on the biscuit. "I could tell the elves where to find Edge Hill. They'd annihilate each other. I'd tell James and Sirius what I'd done and they'd forgive me! I'd be a hero!"

Peter's eyes lit with excitement; not only had he come up with a plan but it was a brilliantly cunning one. "I could do this, I've done it before," he said, "I could betray the Death Eaters to the Elves."

XoXoX

Severus heard the horn again. He was warm in his own bed, wounds healed, mind and body exhausted. Next to him lay the peaceful form of Morrigan, as she had been for every night since her return. Severus closed his eyes and heard it again in his mind, not quite awake, not quite dreaming.

The horn rang out clear _and true. The elves melted back into the trees but this time Severus didn't turn to face the Aurors. He floated up, drifting overhead as he followed the elves down the valley behind the dyke and back to the battlefield. Bodies littered the ground, blocking the Thames and turning the land and water red. Crows and rooks cawed overhead, ready to partake of the feast once all the live men had left._

_The elves streamed down, out of the gorge and away from Goring. Severus followed, watching as they regrouped and encamped in Basildon Park two miles south. The sun hat set and Severus floated towards the Georgian Mansion seated in glorious parkland now covered in fires and tents. _

_Like a ghost he moved through the wall and into a beautiful dining room, a long mahogany table commanding the centre of the space. At its head King Lleu sat, a distinctly unamused look on his face. He barely looked up as several Captains entered, though he snapped out his question rapidly enough, "Have you the tally?"_

"_I do sire," the oldest Captain said._

"_Well?"_

"_4386 men, with an extra 154 injured who will be fit to fight come morning, sire."_

_King Lleu stood, his chair scrapping on the wooden floor, and walked slowly to the window to look down over the flickering fires across the park. "4540 all told," he said. The Captains agreed. "That's an unacceptable level of loses. And Mongan still hasn't taken Oxford. Which denies us another two thousand." Lleu turned from the window and fixed his loyal Captains with a fierce gaze. "Send to Mongan. I want Oxford taken now. He is to march east and come at London from the north. We shall take Reading on the morrow. Captain Gar-"_

_Severus felt a touch on his arm and _opened his eyes. Morrigan had shifted in her sleep, facing him now. The light from the streetlamps filtered through the curtains cast a glow over her features, softening them. Severus lay still, staring at her face and scoffing at his sentimental thought: 'I'm glad she came; a light in my life.' Then he carefully rolled out of bed and crept from the room. He had a note to pen to Lucius.

XoXoX

It was dark in the hills above Goring. About seven miles away the glow of Reading lit the underside of the clouds, but up here in the hills there were no lights. Peter wasn't focused on Reading or the dark though, he only had eyes for the flood of fires that winked between him and the large town. The elves had camped.

Silently Peter crept as close as he dared, he didn't think he'd be easily seen in his clean black robes but he wasn't taking any chances. Once he should see the first fire through the trees only a hundred yards away he transformed. As a rat he was much less likely to be captured or killed. The only disadvantage was that a walk of half a mile now became a scurry of half a mile, and rat legs were a lot shorter than human ones.

Later he thought back on that journey through a field of elves and was amazed that he'd got through alive. The number of lucky chances and near misses was astounding; it had seemed like every elf had rat on his menu. When he got to the Georgian home of Lord and Lady Iliffe he was exhausted. All he wanted to do was find a corner to curl up in, but he'd made his choice and he had to keep going.

Wormtail's nose led him on, finding an old coal chute which led into a cellar, then into a kitchen. He was hard pressed to move on from there, the cavernous space was filled with interesting smells and comfortable warmth. Up the stairs he went, behind a skirting board and then out into a small dark room that smelt of cleaning fluid. Perfect. Wormtail scrunched his long nose and transformed back into Peter. He was somewhere on the second floor now, where the leaders and top brass were more likely to be.

Peter bit his lip as he laid hands on the doorknob, then winced as he caught the edge of his unhealed cut. Quivering with fear inside and out, his hands shaking and nose twitching, Peter opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. When he opened his eyes he was surprised to see that he wasn't surrounded by elves or being held at sword point. There was, in fact, a distinct absence of anyone Half happy, half annoyed, Peter picked a direction and started walking.

He'd walked all the way down the north side of the mansion and halfway down the west side before he heard voices. He backed away from the double doors of the room he was in, suddenly fearful again, distinctly afraid, and not at all wanting to find out what being at sword point was like.

"Stop it Peter," he berated himself, "Remember why you're doing this. No more elves. No more Death Eaters. Forgiveness. Things the way they were." He took a step forward and nodded in encouragement. He took another. Right up against the doors now. Peter summoned the last of his resolution and opened it, entering into a room lit by candlelight.

Only a couple of the dozen elves talking round a long table looked up at his entrance, and they seemed utterly disinterested. Peter felt a vague sense of disappointment before a soldier came up to him and he moved back to being in fear.

"Yes. What do you want?" the soldier questioned, sounding like he'd prefer to be barking orders than stuck in with the top brass.

"I-" Peter began.

"Hold on, you're no elf!" the soldier beckoned and more sentries advanced on Peter, drawing their swords.

Surrounded and about to be cut down Peter held up his hands and cried out, "No! Wait! I have information."

One of the Captains at the table raised a hand and the soldiers stopped, their swords still held ready. "What information?" the grey-haired Captain Gar asked.

"I can tell you where the Death Eaters' Headquarters are," Peter said, his voice shaking slightly as he looked pointedly at the encircling weapons, "But I won't without assurances."

"Just kill him," muttered a man near the back, "He's probably lying anyway."

"No," said Captain Gar, coming over to stare Peter in the eye, "You may be right, but still... Send for the King."

A soldier slipped out a far door as Peter was marched around the long table and forced to his knees before a high-backed chair. He was scared beyond belief now, every instinct screaming at him to run. Somehow he held on, clasping his hands together to hide the shaking. The King entered and Peter saw then that the images of fairytale elves had some basis in truth. He was lithe but strong, with pointed features and an easy smile. Dressed in detailed armour, the light set him ablaze like a golden god come straight from myth.

"What is going on? Who are you?" he asked, looking down at the black figure on the floor.

"I- My name is Peter Pettigrew, and I can tell you where the Death Eater's Headquarters are," Peter said clearly.

King Lleu walked over to stand between the young man and his chair. "Why would you tell me this?" he asked searchingly.

"Because...because I want to be on the winning side," Peter said quietly, ashamed that it was the truth. At Hogwarts he had always been on the winning side – always the prankster, rarely the pranked – at least that was how he remembered it.

"Ah," King Lleu sighed and looked up at his Captains, sharing the joke, "Greed and the survival instinct," he smiled and the others smiled too; how easy it was to see to the heart of these humans, everything driven by fear and greed. Taking his seat, Lleu sat back and waved a thin hand, "Well then?" he said.

Peter caught his eye and, hardening his expression as much as he could, demanded, "Say you'll let me go, alive...and unhurt, once I've told you."

"Why would I do that?" Lleu questioned, leaning forwards to looked into the ratty man's face. "I could kill you," he added as if he were commenting on the weather.

"But then you'd never know what I know," Peter said, focused entirely on the King now.

Lleu took a breath and considered. Finally he conceded, "Very well."

"Swear it."

Now the King's face lost its easy expression and the face of a warrior came through. Here was a man who had fought and won many battles, who had known death and pain, who killed the weak, the useless and the unworthy. Peter quailed under this man's gaze, seeing only a future filled with horror in his eyes. Then it passed and Lleu the Merciful came back. He raised his left hand and said, "I, Lleu _Lonnbeimnech_ , do swear to let you go, alive and unharmed. Now tell me: where does _Lord_ Voldemort reside?"

"Edge Hill. Edge Hill Manor. It's north of Oxford," Peter stuttered out.

Lleu looked over Peter's head at Captain Gar who was already pawing over the maps spread across the table. There was a searching moment then Gar nodded and said, "I have it sire."

"Very good. Take him away," Lleu smiled, waving his hand at the sentries and Peter.

Peter cried out, "But you swore!"

"I said I would let you go. I didn't say when," Lleu said and began to laugh.

That laughter followed Peter as he was dragged from the room, ringing in his ears as he cried in despair.


	40. Fighting for Breath

**A/N: Apologies again for the delay. Thank you to all those who have this story on their alerts.**

Chapter Twenty-One

Mongan rolled over to the sound of a calling voice. A messenger stood just inside the canvas door holding a letter. Putting his knife back under his pillow Mongan rose and took the paper from the guano-speckled man. He even smelt like pigeons. Ripping open the letter Mongan scanned it; he was barely halfway down the page when he held up a hand to stall the pigeon-man and ordered, "Get Captain Finn."

While he waited Mongan dressed, his eyes flicking back to the paper time and again. So his brother had found a traitor and the location of _Lord_ Voldemort's camp. This would be fun.

"My lord," Captain Finn saluted as he entered.

"I want three hundred men ready to march at dawn."

"Very good, my lord," Finn spotted the letter on the table and couldn't help a searching look.

Lips twitching, Mongan picked it up and folded it, placing the paper inside his armour for safe-keeping. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Finn deflate slightly. "My brother wants Oxford taken. Use the river, close the bottom locks and flood it," he said.

"Yes my lord."

"I will leave further instructions." Mongan motioned with his hand. Finn saluted and left to fetch the three hundred. Three hundred elves against a handful of wizards; yes, this would be fun.

XoXoX

Sat in the main hall at Edge Hill Manor, Lucius nursed his wounds and scowled at the arguments going on around him. His left arm was in a sling thanks to a dislocated shoulder and he'd twisted his right ankle, yet his injuries were far less severe than others. He, afterall, had come back from Goring alive. Lucius scowled harder as a minor Death Eater looked to him for advice. The man scuttled back into the crowd at the end of Lucius's glare. He wasn't interested in getting involved in the arguments; he knew exactly what had gone wrong at Goring. Firstly the Ministry hadn't trusted that they were against the elves, and then they'd reverted to their old war too quickly. Neither of these points could be changed with arguments, but the rest of the room seemed intent on doing so.

That wasn't the only argument Lucius could discern in the rabble. Thanks to his information from Severus, everyone knew that the elves weren't stopping to regroup but heading straight on to Reading. Lucius looked gloomily out the window at the mid-morning sun; they'd be there by now. Yet here were the Death Eaters, still fighting amongst themselves about what to do. Should they discard their robes and join the Ministry Volunteers as civilians, thus solving the Goring problem, or would that decrease their effectiveness? Lucius didn't really care what the answer was; no decision would be made by them anyway.

He looked up at Voldemort entered the room, head high, silence sweeping in behind him. He stood at the head of the table and took a moment, his gaze catching everyone's eye.

"All sides gained casualties at Goring. But there are still thousands of elves out there. We have," Voldemort paused and looked at Avery.

"Sixty-two," the man supplied.

Nodding Voldemort went on, "Sixty-two men: it is not enough. The Ministry has asked for volunteers, requested that people enlist. They have Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix and a handful of civilians.

"Now is not the time for requesting, for asking people to fight, now is the time for telling them to fight for their country!" Murmurs turned into a ragged cheer of agreement and Voldemort smiled. "The Muggles actually have it right: In times of great war the army does not enlist, it conscripts!"

As the men and women nodded to each other, their eyes lighting with the fervour of action, Voldemort turned to Lucius who had struggled to his feet. He placed a light hand on his uninjured shoulder and asked, "Lucius, can you walk?"

"Yes my lord," Lucius replied firmly.

"Can you apparate?"

"Yes my lord!"

"Then take twenty men and go to the small villages, the hamlets and the farms. Get us men!" Voldemort ordered, the light in his own eyes fierce as he heard the cry of unity around him. "Avoid the larger centres of population. We don't want more casualties."

Lucius nodded, his injuries forgotten as he was caught up in the excitement. He was ready to do what his lord commanded, and willingly such was the power of the Dark Lord's voice. Voldemort turned back to the crowd and gestured as he spoke.

"The elves are in Reading, taking that town inch by inch. The rest of you will come with me. We will not let them take what is ours! We will fight for our land! For England!"

"FOR ENGLAND!"

XoXoX

James sat staring at the crack in the wall. There were two cloaks wrapped around him and his nose was cold. Beside him, washed and dressed in his finest clothes, lay Sirius Black on his bier. The room was chill and there were four black candles, one in each corner of the windowless space. James was sat on a wooden chair. It rocked slightly on the uneven flags.

_Breathe in._

The crack ran from just off-centre of the third flag on the left all the way up to the corner of the room. There was a door to James' left. Sometimes it was open and he could hear things, people talking. More often it was closed and he was left with the cold and his thoughts. Sirius's eyes were closed.

_Breathe out._

In their second year Sirius had picked all the red thread out of his tie. He claimed only gold was good enough for the Marauders. It was the first time the four Gryffindor boys had called themselves that. Remus had had to explain to Peter what a Marauder was. For two weeks they'd tried to turn everything they came across into gold. Only once had they actually managed to turn anything more than gold-coloured. Sirius had hailed it a grand sign and placed the golden goblet in pride of place on the table in their dorm. It had turned back to pewter the next day.

_Breathe in._

The black candles were on tall black candlesticks with curly feet and twisted shafts. The door was open.

"Why aren't they crossing the river to Slough? It's right there. Once they're through Reading..."

"Tactics."

"What tactics?"

"Both the Ministry and Diagon Alley are on the south side of the Thames. By crossing into Slough they'd end up on the north side."

"And we could, theoretically, hold them at the bridges."

"Right. They're just trying to make everything as easy as possible for themselves."

"I wish they wouldn't."

_Breathe out._

One moonlit night in third year James, Sirius and Peter had followed Remus under the invisibility cloak. It hadn't been moonlit when they started, but by the time they were halfway along the earthen tunnel and heard the howling the full moon had risen. When it had set for the last time that month the three of them had confronted Remus about being a werewolf. He'd fled out into the grounds. Sirius had later told James that he'd caught up with him just before Remus vanished into the Forbidden Forest. Sirius had sworn then on everything he held dear that he would never tell and that it didn't matter.

_Breathe in._

Sirius's hands were by his sides. Every so often James's eyes would flick to the nearest one, vague thoughts in his mind. Was he cold? James was cold. Even with two cloaks on he was cold. His breath didn't steam but he kept his hands wrapped in the folds of the cloaks. The stone table upon which Sirius lay was draped with a black cloth edged in gold. In the corners tiny dogs ran, fixed and stationary they still seemed alive.

There was running in the corridors around the room. People moving quickly. A voice cried out, "They're in Reading!" Later someone came in the room and placed a drink beside him with a bowl of stew. She put a hand on his knee and tried to look into his eyes. James traced the crack on the wall again and ignored what she was saying, "James? We need you out there. We're going to fight in Reading. Will you come?" She stayed for a while. James didn't move, didn't speak. She left.

_Breathe out._

James had lost count of how many times he'd woken up to a wet nose in the face. The first time Sirius had done that James had yelped so loudly he'd woken Peter and fallen out of bed. Sirius had laughed so hard when he transformed back. He'd never become tired of waking his dorm mates that way, though as the years went on he seemed to reserve it especially for James. One morning James had grabbed him round the middle and refused to let go. The feeling of someone transforming in his arms was one he'd never forget.

XoXoX

Reading's streets were aflame, elves marched down every road killing indiscriminately. From windows and alleys Aurors and Order members fired spells, hurled iron objects and attacked in any way they could, but it was like throwing rocks in a river to slow its passage. The elves marched on. No one was save from their blades; Muggles ran from the invisible death that flooded their town.

Near the rearguard and the line of wagons flowing along the main road a park suddenly filled with silent black-robed men and women. At their head stood a fearsome red-eyed figure. He gestured and the group split, half drawing swords and heading for the last line of elves. The other half spread out along the route ready for the signal.

The man, seeing everyone in position, took off after the elvish troops, his wand raised high as he whispered, "_Dragonfyre._" A blast of fire erupted from the wand, melting brick and tarmac, turning shrubs to black and twisted ash, burning the lines of elves before they had time to scream. Fighting broke out as Death Eaters burst into view, attacking the elves with sword and spell.

Behind him the wagons which carried food and resources were burnt, destroyed and overturned, their drivers set to the sword. Voldemort smiled grimly and strode into the midst of battle, the killing curse on his lips.

XoXoX

Night had fallen and the elves had holed up in the stadium near the centre of Reading. Sentries stood at every entrance (there were four), staring out into the orange lit darkness. Several streetlights had been knocked down or damaged in the fierce fighting and the muggles at the National Grid were desperately attempting to keep power in the town. Not that that mattered to Lily.

Holding her wand rather obviously she stepped out from a side-street and walked calmly towards one of the guarded stadium entrances. At least she looked calm; in fact she was humming a small tune in an endeavour to stave off her nerves.

When Lily was about twenty feet away from the wary and alert sentry she stopped and gave a little wave to make sure she had their attention.

"Hi. I just wanted to ask a question. Do elves really have pointed ears? Cause-" Lily broke off as the soldier stepped forwards and made for her. "Eep," she added, and turned running. She ran down the road, hurdling a fallen lamppost, and skidded into a side-street. Bolting between skips and bodies she risked a glance over her shoulder. He was thirty yards away and gaining on her. By the end of the street he was only twenty-five yards behind.

Lily ran round the corner, barely avoiding running into a burnt-out car, and kept going. Past the first dimly-lit alley, past the second, he was only ten yards behind now, round the pile of bodies, five yards and she could almost hear his footsteps over the heartbeat in her head. He was reaching out and... she swerved into the last alley and skidded to a stop halfway down. It was a dead end.

Lily turned, ready to back into the wall, wand held out. The soldier was right in front of her, between Lily and the alley entrance. He was clutching his right arm, a bewildered look on his face. Then he fell forwards, right on his nose. Lily went over tentatively and poked him with her boot. He didn't move. She kicked him harder. He still didn't move.

"That's not very nice. Kicking a man when he's dead," said Alice, throwing back the hood of a borrowed invisibility cloak and raising an eyebrow at Lily.

"I was making sure he _was_ dead," protested Lily.

"He's purple!"

Lily examined the visible skin of the dead soldier and nodded. He was purple, though really it was less a royal purple and more a I've-picked-lots-of-blackberries type of purple. "Alright," she agreed, then held out her hand to the floating head, "Cloak please."

"What?"

"It's your turn to be bait."

Grumbling, Alice took off the invisibility cloak and handed it and the foot-long, leaf-headed iron railing to Lily. Then she patted her hair into place and took off out of the alley.

"Hey!" called Lily, "What about him?"

Alice waved at the pile of bodies in the centre of the road and kept walking. Lily sighed, threw the cloak around herself and grabbed the ankles of the dead man. She would end this war, for James's sake, even if she had to do it one elf at a time.

XoXoX

Voldemort and his troops had returned to Edge Hill to bandage the wounded and rest until daybreak. There was little point in attacking the stadium directly, as soon as a wizard apparated in they would be a spear pincushion. Voldemort flexed his right wrist, feeling the tug of sore muscles. He aimed his wand carefully, and whispered a well-worn healing spell, another couple of rotations and he was satisfied.

He walked over to his desk and pulled parchment and ink towards him. Today had gone well, they had demolished the supply train and killed most of the rearguard. But now the elves would be prepared for him. He needed a new plan, one in which the greatest damage could be done with the least effort. Voldemort dipped his quill into the ink and began.

XoXoX

The soft rasp of stone on metal made Mongan smile smugly. Beside him lay rags and polish: his knife would be ready for tomorrow, and so would he.


	41. Battle at Edge Hill

**There's a poll on my profile page. If you're interested. LB**

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dawn came bright and cheerful but as Voldemort drew back the heavy curtains he frowned. There was a black smudge several fields distant and it was moving closer. Pushing open the reluctant window he listened – birds, the odd muggle vehicle, horses whinnying, and a dull repetitive thudding: footsteps.

Voldemort grabbed his wand and hurtled outside, ordering the guards to wake everyone. Now! As he jogged down the corridor he heard them behind him, banging on doors, rousing the sleepers inside. Down the stairs and out across the lawn he went, through the village till he came to the outskirts. Here the tramp of doom was louder and he could hear the sounds of armour and voices. Climbing a small rise he looked out – three hundred elves were advancing on the village of Edge Hill. There was no doubt in his mind, someone had told them he was here.

Marching back to the manor Voldemort was pleased to see most of his men up, even if they were confused and sleepy. He quickly outlined the situation to Avery, Bellatrix and the remaining LeStrange brother: they were under attack and running was not an option. Wary of being discovered by the Ministry, Edge Hill had been covered in layers of spellwork that now made escape impossible.

"And if we let them send us running now morale will be broken. We must fight -" Voldemort broke off, a figure emerging from the manor catching his eye. Morrigan. He strode over to her and demanded, "What are you doing here?"

"Severus left me here. I was helping to bandage the wounded," Morrigan said, her I-hate-you-Voldemort scowl firmly in place. "What's going on?"

"The elves are coming," he said, taking her by the arm and dragging her back inside. There was no way he was letting her stay out there. She could wait in the cellar, securely locked away where she wouldn't be found. She was still a vital asset, he reasoned, though a small part of him whispered, _she has to be protected, she's my blood._

"Let me go!" Morrigan said furiously. She wrenched her arm free and glared at him, "I want to fight."

"Do you?" Voldemort asked, raising an eyebrow. He could see from her defiant stance that force would only lead to her banging on the cellar door, yelling to be let out, and if all went badly, being discovered and killed. Time to do this the Slytherin way.

"You're an escaped prisoner. Those are Oxford elves, led, since they're coming for me, by the King's brother – Mongan," he watched as she blanched and her hand involuntarily went to the scar on her face. Voldemort had seen this reaction before, and though he didn't know for certain, he could guess why Mongan scared her so. That was something he would pay for. "Do you want to fight? Or would you prefer to strategically retreat to the cellar?" he offered.

There was a flicker of defiant fire in Morrigan's eyes which died all too quickly; she had been broken once and now couldn't face the idea of seeing her tormentor again. Voldemort had offered her a dignified way out and she took it gladly. Holding her head high, with a superior expression she said, "I will retreat so that a full report can be given. Just in case." Turning she marched down the corridor to the cellar door.

Voldemort allowed a small smile to crease his lips as he followed, then it vanished as she faced him again.

"Perhaps you ought to secure my position by locking me in. I am, after all, a vital asset," she said without a trace of joking in her tone.

"Of course," Voldemort said, nodding as he pulled the key from his robes. She could play the Slytherin game as well as any other, perhaps she was a suitable heir after all.

With Morrigan safely locked away, Voldemort began to array his troops throughout the village. Time was running out, the elves were now visible, a bronze line in the green landscape.

XoxoX

Mongan halted the men just out of spell range. They would have five minutes to catch their breath and relieve themselves of any unnecessary gear. For himself, Mongan stripped off his outer cloak, reseated his helmet and drew his sword. He could make out the black shapes of wizards in the village and motioned to one of the three Lieutenants that accompanied him.

"Take your cohort by the side path, head for the manor," he instructed calmly, in his element now. The Lieutenant nodded, saluted, and walked back to his hundred. Mongan looked up at the cloud-stricken sun. It was time. He pulled his sword from the ground, drew his knife and with a vicious smile ordered, "Charge."

The battle was frantic and bloody, spells detonating around him as Mongan ran towards the centre of Edge Hill. To his left an elf fell, taken out by the green killing light. Mongan ran on, his sword coming up in a slash that cut through a man. Then he was into the thick of it. Cut, slash, parry, he brought his sword round over head to hack into the right shoulder of his opponent, coming in with his knife to finish the job.

Another man, this one had some training with a sword. Mongan parried the overhead blow, brought his knife under the crossed blade, only to step back as a fireball singed his toes. The man stabbed out, Mongan pushed it aside, turning with the blow to bring his elbow smashing into his face. The man reeled and Mongan attached, slitting open his guts. He moved on, his eyes always hunting not just for the next target but for one target in particular.

XoxoX

_Breathe in._

There was a part of James that wanted to get up and throw those tall black candlesticks across the room, smash his chair to splinters and howl out his anger and denial to the world. He didn't though. He remained sitting here, next to Sirius, thoughts floating through his mind.

They had vowed they'd be together always, friends forever, Marauders to the end. This was the end.

James saw Peter's face again, scared and running, pitch black robes flapping round him. He saw the white mask thrown away, Sirius taking off after him. James closed his eyes, wished he could un-see it, un-feel the devastation, the loss.

It hadn't started then. It had started when Remus left. Gone to find the werewolves. Living with the man James had seen the gradual changes; the way he stood straighter, spoke up more, didn't instinctively seek out the shadowed corners. Remus may still have physically been there, but he'd already moved on, no longer a part – no longer a Marauder.

"_Traitor!"_

Sirius's cry echoed in his mind. James was unable to shake it; it went round and round. He wanted to deny it, but that image of a white mask and Peter's face wouldn't let him.

_Breathe out._

The stone table was draped with a black cloth and upon it lay Sirius, his arms crossed on his chest. He wasn't waking up. He wasn't coming back. He was dead. James knew this, and as he sat keeping vigil the hope inside him, that their unusual powers could save him, began to die. The Marauders were broken: one dead, one a traitor, one lost to another world.

There was the sound of footsteps outside the door and James heard a female voice ask, "Gideon? What are you doing here?"

"I- I had to – had to get away. They, they've found Fenwick, Benjy Fenwick, in the ruins of Reading. Found!" Gideon gave a breathless little half-laugh. "There was barely enough left of him to identify. They'd hacked him to pieces! The blood!"

"Hush now. It's alright. Somehow it'll be alright."

Somehow. James fixed on that one word. It spoke of an endless battle, a fight which would only end with death and destruction, it sounded the warning bell of the beginning of the end. The elves. If they hadn't come things would be better. Not a lot better, but better. Remus would still have drifted away, Peter would still have betrayed them. But all those lives - _his life -_ wouldn't have been lost. So many dead, so much grief and anger. Fighting the Death Eaters had been different, James had known they were men who should, could be reasoned with, or punished. Elves though, they were driven by long festered wounds and a cold ruthlessness. And now they'd made them angry.

_Breathe in._

The room grew colder, the sun was probably hiding from the world. This was the second day since he'd fallen. James's head nodded, he was tired, so tired. He'd been keeping vigil for two days and two nights with minimal food and no rest. He couldn't rest lest the demons come to steal Sirius away.

James wrenched his eyes back open. Beside him Sirius was sitting up on the bier, his legs hanging over the side.

"Do you remember the time we hung Snivelly upside down and threaten to take off his underpants?" Sirius said.

James nodded and whispered, "Yes."

"I laughed so hard," Sirius half-smiled at the remembrance before he went on, "It doesn't seem so funny anymore. I guess death'll do that to you; put things in perspective. I could have been nicer to him."

"We both could," James agreed.

Sirius shook his head. "Can't change the past, mate, only the future."

A loud crash upstairs drew James's attention and he looked towards the ceiling for a moment. When he look back Sirius was lying down, just as he'd always been, not a hair out of place. James's hand shook as he reached out. Cold fingers touched cold fingers: still dead.

_Breathe out._

The black candles flickered sending strange shadows dancing around the room. In them James saw great creatures, monsters, and friends. Less friends now than before. In a few weeks time who knew how many he'd have left. Would there be anyone left to fight in the end?

XoxoX

Voldemort was holding his own in the centre of the village, the gates of the manor behind him. For every elf who got past his Dark elemental spells he was ready with sword and steel. All around the Dark Lord men and elves were dying, and though the wizards were fighting hard, throwing killing curses where fire and water didn't work, and using swords where magic was of no avail, they were steadily being pushed back.

The Dark Lord flicked his wand and the earth beneath the feet of an elf groaned and shook, opening up to drop the screaming soldier into a chasm deep. Voldemort turned and raised his blade to parry before bringing fire to the enemy's bones, a feral grin on his face as the body turned to ash.

It was more a dance than a battle, the host of Dark Arts that he had learnt coming into play as banners of swirling fire, the howl of ageless icy winds, and the never-ending tremble of the earth below. The skies darkened as the black magic brought the air under its will, drawing great chunks of hail crashing down to split helm and head. This was what the Order feared, what terrified the Ministry, and what the elves did not comprehend – the power of a Dark Lord unleashed!

Voldemort set raging _Dragonfyre_ to scorch the life from around him, stepping back into its calm heart with an intense expression. He had seen the effortless warrior approach; Mongan came, and he would be a challenge, even to Lord Voldemort's might. No spell seemed to touch him, his body obeying every command with a grace that stilled all, his wicked blades snatching the life from everyone he encountered. Voldemort held firm, destroying a few more elves' hopes of revenge, along with their lives, as he watched the black and bronze form cut a way closer to him.

Then he was there, standing in front of him with a calm ease that ignored the hellish scenes around. Voldemort lowered his wand for an instant, the sword in his left hand remaining ready. The pair nodded to each other, warriors acknowledging each others' skill.

"Mongan."

"Voldemort."

"Who told you?" Voldemort asked, indicating Edge Hill burning around them, his eyes never leaving Mongan's face.

"I don't know," Mongan replied conversationally, "He went to the King."

"Ah."

Without further warning it began – the fight between two leaders, masters of sword and wand. Mongan's sword flicked up, his knife in a defensive position. He ran through a series of basic cuts and thrusts, smiling as every one was caught and turned away. He shifted his feet, dancing around the gaping chasm newly opened beneath him and moved in again, this time to hack at Voldemort's unprotected head. Once again his blade was turned and forced away, and now he was made to parry against the flashing blows, all the while keeping an eye on Voldemort's wand.

It flicked in ever more complicated patterns, Voldemort bringing all his years of training to the fight. He used all the Dark Arts he knew, vocal and non-vocal, lethal and not. Some bounced off the bronze breastplate of Mongan, some burnt through only to be ineffective against the elf's natural immunity, others Mongan avoided, dancing away only to attack again from another angle.

The long knife darted in, scoring a hit across Voldemort's arm, but the tall man didn't flinch, calling more hail from the heavens. Mongan's grin only seemed to widen at this, and as the chunks of ice rained down and the magical winds swirled around them he yelled, "Is that the best you've got?"

Now it was Voldemort's time to smile, his red eyes gleaming as their blades continued to meet. He pointed his wand at the ground and between breathes spoke softly, "_Fiendfyre_."

Fire burst from his wand, hitting the ground and spiralling away to devour wood, stone, metal and flesh. Unlike the simple flare of white-hot flame that made up the deadly _Dragonfyre_ this flame contained sizzling demons, faces and creatures come from Hell to torment and destroy. They consumed everything in their search for souls, for as they were the fire, the fire was them. They swirled around Mongan, driving him back, the edges of his bronze sword melting in the heat to drip burning blobs of metal to the ground.

Mongan's head turned one way and another, searching for a way out. And then, leaping high, he dove right over the top of the _Fiendfyre_ into the centre of a frozen pond. The fiends moved on, the magically frozen water uninteresting to the endless appetites of demonkind.

The elf lord stood from his landed crouch and cocked his head at Voldemort. "Very good," he said. Then he ran, his feet somehow finding good purchase on the slippery surface, right at the Dark Lord. Voldemort held his sword up, ready to parry, but as Mongan's feet hit the shore he leapt again. He brought his sword down on Voldemort's, all the weight of his descending form behind it, and with his knife lashed out.

There was a crack, a splintering sound and Mongan rolled away to look on with an evil smile. Voldemort's world darkened as he brought his wand up. It was broken.

His wand. His precious wand. It had been with him for fifty years; a symbol and a tool. That _elf_ had broken it, snapped it in two, leaving the bright red phoenix feather exposed. Voldemort snarled and attacked, the blows flowing from him as his rage fed energy to his arm.

Mongan tried to parry but Voldemort kept coming, his blade a dance of light as it flew around the bronze sword wrenching it from the elven lord's hand. Mongan stumbled, stepped back, amazed at the ferocity as he swapped his long knife to his right hand. Then Voldemort closed on him again, but now Mongan was holding his own. Stepping close he hit out, his fist catching Voldemort's face, cracking his lip and drawing blood.

Voldemort snarled in fury again and pocketed the remains of his wand to swap his sword from left to right hand. The battle swayed in his favour again, and he pushed Mongan back with quick blows through the fires and lashing hail.

The elf parried a blow and turned slightly on his back foot, raising his front leg, and kicked out at the onrushing fury. Voldemort doubled over as the blow connected with his midriff, forcing all the air from him. Before he could rise and pay the villain back in kind, Mongan raised his knife and brought the pommel down hard on Voldemort's head. He slumped and knew no more.

XoxoX

From the ashes of a building a woman pulled herself up. Slowly she stumbled, limping, away from the smell of blood and sounds of burning. The fields ahead of her seemed endless, and she wanted nothing more than to lay down and give in. Onwards she edged, her black hair matted with blood, her clothes torn and stained. The sun was setting before her, blindingly bright against the red sky, setting the stone wall and tall trees in silhouette.

A stone caught under her foot and she fell hard. She didn't cry out though, there was no one left to cry out to. She lay there for a while, her face in the dirt, her arms limp upon the ground. Then she heaved herself up again and struggled on. The stone wall reached out before her, casting its shadow long upon the earth. There was no hurrying in her pace, only an endless step, dragging her injured leg. Her arms swung helplessly at her sides, until she reached the dry stone wall.

She rested for a while, leaning against the wall. The cold rough stone felt good against her burning skin. Slowly she began to turn, for the first time seeing the village behind her in full. She gasped painfully; it was all gone, the buildings, the people: the smoke rising had taken it all. For a moment she closed her eyes against the sight, then she levered herself up onto the wall and gently swung her good leg over. She reached down and pulled up the useless leg with her hands, wiping the blood on her black robes as she sat with her back now facing the village.

Dropping carefully into the field beyond the wall she limped steadily towards an old oak tree in the centre. The going was tough, the field wasn't smooth and she had to stop often to regain her breath and balance. Finally she made it, laying hands on the bark as she walked around it. A tingling passed over her skin and she sighed. Slumping to the ground the black haired woman sat with her back against the tree; it had seen so much come and go but this day would be etched in its bark no doubt.

The sun would set and the sun would rise, but she wouldn't be going anywhere. She only hoped that someone find her here, where they were supposed to come. Closing her eyes the woman gave in to the pain, tears beginning to roll down her face as they had never done before. Bellatrix LeStrange was finally alone.


	42. Bdoying

**At this time of year give to the Salvation Army, give Blood, give Presents, or - and this is the easy option – give a Review. LB**

Chapter Twenty-Three

Lucius apparated with Nott and Snape to Edge Hill fully ready to report on his conscription efforts. It had gone well, with a number of forcibly enlisted wizards now residing in the old cave complex in the Peak District. They would be kept there until Lord Voldemort decided they were to be placed on the front lines.

The scene that greeted Lucius, however, drove all thoughts of success from his mind. It was like a set piece from Dante's Inferno; bodies lay on the ground, houses were burning, and a malign fog lay over everything, given an otherworldly glow by the flickering fires. Blood stained the ground and the gates of the manor were twisted, the building itself consumed and crumbled.

"What happened here?" breathed Nott in horror.

Severus kicked over a charred and purple body. "Elves," he spat.

"How did they find us?" Nott asked, moving tentatively forwards through the field of bodies.

"Who were they after?" Lucius said, looking at Severus.

His eyes widened in fear as he caught Lucius's meaning and then Severus was racing towards the manor, jumping the mangled gates as he cried out, "Morrigan!"

Lucius took off after him, hearing his friend calling as he searched through the still burning rubble. The upper floor of the manor had been built of wattle and daub; wooden floors and ceilings that now left only blackened timbers jutting starkly like shadows against the night sky.

Severus cursed himself as shifted beams and searched room; he should never have left her here, he should have taken her home, even against her refusals. Lucius caught his arm and Severus spun, nerves twanging, but Lucius didn't react to the raised wand. Instead he hushed Severus and said, "Listen." Under the creaking and groaning of broken timbers, the crackling of still burning fires, there was a weak sound. A voice crying for help.

The two men moved down the corridor, climbing over more often than moving the fallen bricks and blackened wood for fear of bringing the rest of the manor down on their heads. In a corner there stood a solid oak door, burnt but extant, in the firm stone walls that made up the ground floor. A pile of broken glass, debris and detritus from the holey ceiling above them was scattered on the floor, but their wands made quick work of clearing the arc allowing space for the door to be opened.

"Morrigan?" Severus called again, listening carefully for a reply. A weak cry met his ears and Lucius aimed his wand, "_Alohomora!_" Severus tried the door and cursed, "Locked."

"You'd think someone would have created a spell to unlock as well as unlatch doors by now," Lucius muttered as he looked around in a vain hope of finding another way in.

Digging around in his robes, Severus knelt in front of the door and pulled out a thin felt bag. From it he drew two slim oddly shaped pieces of metal.

"What are-" Lucius began.

"Lockpicks. When magic fails, or is unavailable, muggle methods often work," Severus said, inserting the picks into the lock and starting to find the catch.

Lucius raised an elegant eyebrow; in the midst of all this destruction and cloying smoke his friend still managed to surprise him. Surprises. His mind turned back to Nott's question: how had the elves discovered that this small village harboured the Dark Lord and his allies? Someone must have betrayed them. But with a whole orchestra of suspects – all with their own plans and ambitions – it would be difficult to narrow down the list.

The lock clicked open and Lucius followed Severus's lead, lighting his wand for steady illumination down the stone steps. The roof of the cellar had fallen at one end, crushing the barrels and wine bottles to send red sticky liquid spilling over the worn floor.

"Help!" The weak cry came from somewhere under the tumbled stones.

Quickly the men moved the largest rubble blocks, sending them crashing down the other end of the cellar, freeing the trapped voice below. Grey stone gave way to dark material and dirty smudged flesh. Morrigan groaned and, with the assistance of Lucius, stood up. She was wobbly with a slightly glazed look from the bleeding head wound matting her hair, but aside from that one shallow cut and a handful of bruises, she seemed in good health.

Blinking against the feeble light she looked around and saw Severus frowning in concern. Almost tripping over the fallen stones she went to him, throwing her arms around his neck. Severus stood stunned for a second, then with a threatening glare at Lucius he wrapped his arms around her and returned the hug, all the while reassuring her that her ordeal was over. Lucius suppressed his smile and walked away to search for other survivors, or any sign of Lord Voldemort.

Outside, Nott knelt next to a fallen Death Eater. His guts had been cut open, and his throat slashed, the blood soaked into the ground around him. Nott placed a hand on his shoulder, and said quietly, "I'm so sorry, Avery, my friend." Then he reached up and closed his blank and staring eyes. So many had fallen here at Edge Hill, the elves hadn't just killed, they had massacred. All around there were faces he knew, people he had worked with, all dead. Nott stood, and stepped back, speaking the spell to burn his friend's body to ask. When the wind came it would make him a part of the world again.

A standing figure drew his attention to the lightly frozen pond, and Nott walked over to Lucius. He had something clasped in his hand and was looking out over the torn village.

"Did you find Le Fay?" Nott asked, resolutely looking out to the fields rather than back.

"Yes," Lucius said, tones of anger and despair mixed in his voice.

"I think she may be the only survivor then," Nott said, grateful that someone had made it through alive. "I haven't seen any sign of-" He broke off as Lucius opened his hand to reveal half a broken wand, yew and phoenix feather – Lord Voldemort's wand. "No!" he gasped, "He can't be!"

"I have found no trace of his...of him," Lucius said, watching as Severus and Morrigan picked their way towards them. When they had reached the frozen pond and Severus had looked, startled, at what Lucius was carrying, he continued, "I believe he has been captured."

"He would be a valuable hostage," Severus offered.

Morrigan shook her head gently at the suggestion, and said, "They wouldn't want him as a hostage, but as an example..."

"An example?" Nott asked, and as Morrigan nodded he frowned and looked down. They were all Death Eaters here, they had all made 'examples' of Muggles and Mudbloods; generally the individual did not survive. Which was fine when it was them doing it to others, but for the elves to make an example of Lord Voldemort. "We have to do something."

"Yes," agreed Lucius. He closed his hand around the broken wand and exuded natural authority, stating, "Severus, take Morrigan home. She needs rest," he flicked a small comforting smile at her before turning to Nott. "I will inform the remaining Death Eaters of the situation, and return with them here as soon as possible. Remain here and continue the search for survivors. We will all meet at Malfoy Manor in twenty-four hours, by which time we should have an idea what remains from this slaughter. And then," Lucius's eyes blazed, "we shall visit the elves."

XoxoX

"It's time," said a soft voice at his elbow.

James looked up and saw Remus, Gideon and Fabian standing sombrely at the door. His vigil was over, it was time to bury his friend. Shakily James stood and with Lily's help removed the cloaks. They were replaced by a new one, soft black wool held by a broach of spiralling gold. Now he matched the others as they took their places at the corners of the bier. A muttered spell and Sirius lay on a woven stretcher, long wood poles ready for carrying. James went to take his position as Sirius's head beside Remus.

Together the four men lifted and turned to carry the fallen hero from the room, Lily pacing ahead of them. James didn't process the corridor with its painting solemn, heads downcast, nor did he see the clear dark sky, the sun just sending rays ahead of its rising. Outside the front door Frank Longbottom stood next to fellow Auror Robertson. They stepped forwards as Sirius left his house for the last time, shouldering the burden with his friends. Now they were first; Lily, Alice and all those who knew him followed behind.

One foot placed in front of the other, careful not to rock. James felt the land rise before him, knew exactly where they were going. Just below the top of the hill they stopped. Before them the ground opened up, six foot deep, three foot wide. Albus Dumbledore moved to the head of the grave, and the six men placed the bier into his cats-cradle of waiting enchantment, ready to lower Sirius into his last resting place.

James stood staring at Sirius's face as he caught the first rays of the sun. He could almost imagine that Sirius was about to jump up and yell: "Surprise!" but in his heart James knew that wasn't going to happen. Albus began the last rites, the solemnly intoned words that had ushered every first-born Pureblood into death for as long as wizards could remember. Sirius descended into darkness, his wand held across his chest, his cloak held by spirals of gold bearing the Black crest. The words continued.

Robertson stepped forwards and placed Sirius's sword beside him.

"Armed in death as in life."

Lily and Alice lowered an earthenware flask filled with wine and a bowl overflowing with bread and honey into the grave. They lay at Sirius's feet, their incised patterns blending in with the earth around.

"Fed in death as in life."

James felt something pressed into his hand and he looked up to see Remus's tear streaked face. There was a look in his eye that James couldn't interpret, but when he glanced at the object in his hand he understood. He nodded and reluctantly placed the beautiful jet carving of Padfoot by Sirius's head. It had been a birthday present from James a few years ago. He had thought then that it was the most perfect, lifelike, carving of a dog he had ever seen. Though he didn't want to part with it it was right that Sirius should go with some representation of his animagus form.

"Loved in death as in life. Find the halls of your fathers, Sirius Black, and be welcomed there.

"Rest in peace."

When the last turf had been laid and all the men and women returned to the house James remained. He stood by the place where his best friend was buried until the sun was full risen and the white stone shone in the light. Then he turned away with a heavy heart and tears running down his face.

XoxoX

Voldemort awoke feeling uncomfortable, nauseous, light-headed, and distinctly confused. He hadn't felt like this in years, decades even, and really, really, wanted it to go away. As he fought the confusion he began to take in where he was. He appeared to be hog-tied to a large fast moving animal – a horse by the smell. Weakly, his head spinning, he started struggling against his bonds, they cut so deep that he couldn't feel his fingers or toes. His attempts to escape confinement were clearly noted by the owners of the other horses he could hear. The hoof beats stopped, his own animal slowed to a standstill. Roughly he was lifted from his nauseating position and thrown onto the ground. His blindfold was ripped away, and as he blinked in the sudden light Voldemort look up to see his captors.

A dozen elves were ranged around him, some still ahorse, others on foot holding reins and spears. Before him, looking smug, was Mongan. Voldemort lifted his lip in snarl and levelled his most fearsome glare at the elvish lord. Mongan barely blinked, crouching down and placing the tip of his knife against Voldemort's throat.

"I could kill you here," he said silkily, "But you will make a better example at Tintagel. I, personally, don't care one way or another. Whether I kill you here, now, or there, it makes no difference." He stood up and sheathed his knife, beckoning for water. After Voldemort had drunk he continued, "Either ride or die. Choose now."

Voldemort scowled, not liking either option. Staying with Mongan was not an inviting prospect. Yet without his wand he had no way of creating a third path at present, and so he chose. Dying now would serve no purpose, living may allow opportunities to arise, opportunities he could take advantage of.

"I'll ride," he said.

The ropes around his ankles were swiftly cut, and after hobbling to his horse, Voldemort mounted. He raised his still bound hands along with an inquiring eyebrow at Mongan, but the elf shook his head and smiled superciliously.

"I don't think so," Mongan said, before mounting his own horse once more and setting off deeper into the downs of England.

XoxoX

Sitting lazily in a soft-backed chair on a small rise in Windsor Great Park, surrounded by the campfires of his army, Lleu sighed. He had angled his chair so the peaks and turrets of Windsor Castle filled his view, and sat staring at it with a fine glass of red wine in his hand. There had been nothing like that great stone beast in his day, a weight on the landscape, drawing resources from the land around. He took a sip of the wine, and accepted that not all change was bad – the first amphorae had not made it to Britain's shores before he and his kind were so cruelly ejected from this world. Not that they had suffered much in the other world. Once they had made the adjustment they had flourished; still, there was no place like home.

Lleu regarded the castle again. Should he attempt to take it or just remain as he was, just out of spell range? The Ministry forces and volunteers were holed up there, destroying any elf who ventured close. Perched on a rocky outcropping with but one entrance, and that heavily defended, the castle reminded Lleu of the hill forts across his lands of old; the lands he had now regained. They too had been well placed, well constructed, and easy to defend. They had required a great body of men to construct, long months of digging the defensive ring ditches and piling the embankments. To build a castle like Windsor must have needed much toil and armies of men.

Armies which were easy to provide, Lleu reflected; the muggles had bred like rabbits in the three thousand years since he last imposed order in Britain. And like parasites, once the land is infested the only way to sterilise was burning.

Smiling, Lleu nodded at Captain Gar who had climbed the rise with news in his eyes. Gar saluted, ever the well-trained soldier, and held out a worn piece of parchment to his King. "It's from Lord Mongan, sire," he said.

"What does it say?" Lleu asked, not feeling like reading anything, even news from his brother.

"He reports that Edge Hill has been destroyed, all inhabitants killed, and," Gar's tone became proud and slightly gloating as he announced, "They've captured Voldemort."

"Oh, excellent," congratulated Lleu, saluting his far-distant brother with his glass, "Where is he now?"

"Lord Mongan is taking him to Tintagel," Gar said.

Lleu nodded in appreciation, it was the best to keep a prisoner, at least until they had taken London and the Ministry. Feeling magnanimous in success he invited Captain Gar to sit with him and take in the view and some wine. After sitting for a while in companionable silence Lleu asked if there was word from Oxford.

"No, sire. The last news we had was they they had tried to flood the city, but somehow it hadn't worked. The details aren't clear."

"Hmm," Lleu frowned, "I do not understand how one city is proving so hard to take. We took Reading in two days, and burnt it to the ground on our way."

"It's the walls, sire," said Gar, sympathetic to his frustration.

"Those damnable walls. Those damnable wizards," Lleu cursed.

"We will destroy them, sire." Gar said loyally. He sat in thought for a while, the lights of the castle shinning bright against the night. Then he suggested, "Perhaps your brother..."

"Mongan?" Lleu said in confusion. Mongan had been at Oxford and they were still outside its walls.

"Your other brother, sire."

"Oh. Yes. Perhaps. Thank you Captain," Lleu said with little enthusiasm.

Gar took the hint, set down his glass, bowed and left. Lleu watched him walk back to the encircling fires and contemplated his suggestion. His other brother, the one who played with magic. Maybe that was the solution to Oxford's refusal to submit, but Lleu would prefer to take the city his way. Might was right, after all.

XoxoX

They had spent the night at Bath, where Voldemort had seen the way Britain would become if the elves weren't stopped. The muggle population, confused and afraid, had been corralled like cattle in the lower town. The wizards had been set to work clearing houses and turning the reclaimed land and parks into farmland. A few still retained wands and had close supervision as they worked. Voldemort had wondered about breaking free of his guard and stealing a replacement for his beloved yew wand but his ever-watchful guards had moved in close, making escape impossible. During the night Voldemort had heard the laughter of elves as they had spoken of hunting, and it wasn't long before he realised they had been hunting muggles. He shuddered to think he had anything in common with these creatures.

Now they were riding south into the heart of elvish territory, and Voldemort felt something he hadn't felt for a very long time: remorse. If he had entered the war a little sooner, or spoken to Maeve Le Fay about Tintagel, this might not be happening; Britain would not be fighting for its existence. The key weighing heavily in his pocket reminded him that he had to get back to his people...his family.

In the middle of a sleepless night in Bath Voldemort had concocted a plan, and now he began to enact it. He started to act weary, slouching in his saddle and dropping the reins. He let his horse slow so he had to be roused to speed again by the surrounding elves. Eventually they did as he expected and called a brief halt.

Acting more tired still, Voldemort stayed in the saddle, pretending that it was an effort to climb down as the rest dismounted to stretch their legs. Out of slitted eyes he watched and waited. Then when attention waned for a second he burst into action. Kicking the horse in the sides he spurred it to a gallop, directing it out of the group and away from the heart of elven territory. Crouched low to aid the horse's movement he smiled as the sounds of shocked elves moved into the distance. Escape!

Suddenly the horse checked, faltered, and fell, screaming in pain as it tumbled to the ground, throwing its rider clear. Voldemort joined in the the horse's screams, his shoulder dislocating as he slammed into the ground, tears brought to his eyes in shock. Taking deep breaths he struggled to his feet. He took a few faltering steps before horses surrounded him and spears pointed at his chest.

Mongan emerged out of the group and said calmly, "You made me kill a perfectly good animal." Voldemort looked back to where the horse lay, an elf finishing with a sword the job a spear had started. "And you could have killed yourself," Mongan finished with a shake of his head.

"I thought you didn't care if I lived or died," Voldemort snarled through gritted teeth.

"You're right," acknowledged Mongan, dismounting with unseemly grace. He walked the few paces to Voldemort, drew his sword and stabbed him.

Voldemort gasped as the bronze left his body, an overwhelming urge to fall to his knees and curled around the wound coupled with the incredible pain. His vision narrowed, everything seemed to slow down, and his brain suddenly became engrossed with the detail on Mongan's armour.

Mongan leaned in and whispered into his ear, "I missed all your major organs. Next time I won't." Then the elf turned away and ordered, "See to his shoulder, and give him your horse. I want to be at Tintagel by nightfall."

XoxoX

Scowling ferociously Lleu strode through the massed ranks of his army, bodyguards trotting alongside. From his position in the centre of the marching elves he had seen the front lines halt sharply. They hadn't moved forwards again. Now the rest were bunching up, spilling out from their ordered ranks before word to halt shot back.

Gar was already there when Lleu arrived at the source of the trouble, yelling at a group of terrified elves. Politely, but with a growing fury of his own, Lleu waiting for him to finish dissecting the elves' lives, lineage, and behaviour.

"It goes bdoying!" a young elf protested weakly.

"Air cannot make a noise, let alone one as stupid as that-"

"Captain," interrupted Lleu, and everyone turned and saluted, an even more terrified hush falling. "If I may?"

"Of course, sire," Gar said with a now-you're-in-trouble grin, pulling the offending elf forwards with a growl.

"The air went...bdoying?" Lleu asked in a low, penetrating voice that scared the soldier more than Gar's shouting ever could.

He nodded nervously and walked the few yards, past the Captain, to where a open parkland was cut by a long road. He held up his hand and rapped out with his knuckles in the same way one would ring a bell. Expecting his hand to go through the empty air easily, Lleu was highly surprised when the soldier's knuckles hit something.

"BDOYING!" rang out in the still air.

From where his hand had landed golden ripples emerged, spreading out and up, as if someone had dropped a stone into a vertical pond. In the daylight the ripples were soon lost to sight, but enough could be seen that they described a barrier, slightly curved, arcing off into the distance. Lleu walked over and held out his hand, feeling slightly awkward as he acted like a blind man. At about the same point the soldier had hit his hand found the barrier. The golden ripples spread out, and he began to push. Nothing. It was as if the air had turned to stone.

"Captain Gar. Find out how far it goes," Lleu said in a deadly quiet voice. As the Captain started snapping out orders, sending soldiers running, he added angrily, "And get me Pettigrew!"

XoxoX

The dimensions of the barrier were known now. It reached higher than two elves stood atop each other, and curved around the city of London as far as Lleu's runners had gone. The entire city was cut off from the outside world. Experiments had been conducted, and the results showed that rocks, spears, and swords could go through the golden globe quite happily, along with rabbits and other animals, living and dead. Elves, and Peter Pettigrew, couldn't. Magic was the problem. Lleu had pulled out a lodestone and tried throwing that through, to no effect. The conclusion was obvious: no magical creature, object, or being was able to penetrate the barrier.

Lleu had got rather angry at finding this out, and had reneged on his word to Pettigrew. The wizard now lay in a huddled heap in one corner of the tent as Lleu paced back and forth outside, glaring at the empty space where the barrier lay. Trust the wizards to come up with this; an impenetrable barrier that kept them in as much as it kept the elves out. He could attempt to starve them out, but without enough men to encircle the city and with non-magic folk still passing in and out with supplies it would be a futile effort.

The council had convened and now Lleu marched into their tent, throwing the entrance flap aside tempestuously. Hopefully they had come up with a solution to this aggravating problem.

"Well?" he demanded, As he waited for an answer he took in the blank faces and despairing eyes; they had as many ideas as he about getting past this obstacle. Finally one of them gave him the answer he didn't want to hear – there was no way through the barrier.

He thumped the table hard and wished the wizards to suffer a thousand torments. Then a thought occurred to him, something Gar had mentioned about Oxford. He had dismissed it then, but now it might be helpful. Resignation warred with annoyance as he lifted his head and commanded, "Send for Bran."


	43. Dark Heart

**A/N: This work is still in progress. This is important to remember.**

Chapter Twenty-Four

It was a year since Voldemort's death and it was raining in the Scottish mountains. Severus wrapped his ragged cloak more tightly around him and prayed for a break in the weather. He wouldn't ask for sunshine or cloudless skies, just an end to the never-ending, bone-soaking rain. At least, he reflected, it wasn't misty. It had been misty the night they'd attempted to set Voldemort free. Twenty Death Eaters and a few frightened conscripts. The battle had been swift and bloody. Severus had seen most of his friends and acquaintances die that day. He had only escaped through luck and paranoia; his luck and Morrigan's paranoia. She had insisted that he take one of the surviving Portkeys from Edge Manor, just in case.

Hiding in plain sight among the gathered crowd, Severus had watched the painful progress of Voldemort, Lucius, and Bellatrix along the road. Each one had a dozen guards and a great beam of wood carried across their backs. Severus had watched, unable to look away, as the nails were driven home and the crucifixes raised. The shadows had grown long as he'd watched their suffering, his throat tight and heart pounding. As the crowd began to disperse Severus did the only thing he could: he walked away.

He'd apparated to Malfoy Manor, the bearer of terrible news, only to find the building a shell of its former glory. Outhouses were wrecked, fires still smouldered, windows had been shattered and the roof had fallen in. He'd stood for a while, not knowing how to feel or what to do. In one short week his whole world had been destroyed. Severus had picked his way into the rubble and begun the search for Narcissa. He could do nothing for her husband, but she at least he could bury.

Hours came and went; once he heard the chiming of a still-extant clock. He found a body in what had once been the red drawing room. At first he'd been relieved when the woman turned out not to be Narcissa. Perhaps she'd survived after all. But as he'd brushed the short hair away from her face tears had begun to fall.

Severus had spent the night in the ruins next to Morrigan's still body. Many thoughts had passed through his mind then, as he drifted in and out of sleep; dreams of what their life would have been like without the elves. They could have found a small cottage out in the Yorkshire hills, brewed potions together, and had a beautiful sweet-smelling garden.

In the pre-dawn light he'd buried her by the roses and walked away.

The next few weeks were hazy; even now he couldn't remember where he'd been or what he'd done. Reports had reached him every now and again: the London Barrier had fallen; the Minister had gone on the wireless to plead for assistance; a white dragon had destroyed Diagon Alley.

Somehow he found his way east, back to where it began in the ruins of Edge Hill. It was there that he'd discovered Narcissa looking forlorn but still proud. Finding her had given him a focus again, a reason to keep going. They had still been there when Lily Evans and a group of Order members had come searching the ruins for any clues or vestiges of help. She had been shocked to see him again but, with the visible nature of Narcissa's pregnancy, agreed to take them in. That was when Oxford fell.

It wasn't until months later that Severus had found out exactly what had happened. It seemed that the walls had been breached by strange elvish magic, and that had caused a magical cataclysm. Everything blew up violently, elvish and wizarding magic intermingling and causing a tear in the fabric of the world. Wild Magic had flooded the country, making muggle technology useless and disrupting apparation, broom flight, and many forms of higher magic. The tear had also allowed a hundred thousand elves to start moving from their confined world into Britain.

Trapped in the south with no way of getting to safety except walking, despair seemed only a heartbeat away, yet somehow Severus rallied. He had a goal, no matter how impossible, and a purpose. As the ten-strong group began the long march north they discussed what would happen now. The Minister could provide no leadership; if he wasn't dead he was certainly in the hands of the elves, and though the Order were vocal in their support of Dumbledore they all knew that he was more likely to stay at Hogwarts and protect the children and refugees than lead any form of army. They were on their own.

Severus stared out across the Scottish hills towards a distant valley where a glowing dome could be seen. In the eight months since Oxford fell the elves had come a long way; they now besieged Hogwarts, and Dumbledore's resistance was proving strong.

A movement in the tree line drew his attention and Severus reached for his ever-ready wand. Then his hand dropped as he recognised the scruffy black hair and bow-shouldered trudge.

"James," he greeted when the man reached him.

"Severus," James replied amiably. Walking three hundred miles together, depending on each other, losing friends and loved ones along the way; the pair had resolved their differences. James came to stand by the taller man, bundling himself in his cloak against the persistent rain.

Severus glanced over at him and commented, "You look particularly depressed today."

"I'm worried," James said shortly, before sighing, "What if there's no boat waiting in Shetland?"

"Then we steal one and make our own way to Norway," Severus said practically. He turned fully to James, absently noting that his cloak needed a new patch on the shoulder, "There's nothing left for us here, James. Since the Union declared Britain a no man's land two months ago, this is our only option. We will get out of here." He placed his hand on James's shoulder and shook a half-hearted smile from the man.

The action of the Union – the leaders of the most powerful wizarding nations – had followed on the back of widespread migration. With no one defending them the British wizards had scattered, leaderless, and the muggles had followed. Only token resistance remained in the hills of Wales, the Lake District, and here in Scotland. Elsewhere the elves ruled, killing, pillaging, and leaving swaths of blood and destruction as they moved. Those fighters who were caught were crucified or hung as examples, their heads displayed on the walls of captured cities.

A wailing in the cave behind caused James and Severus to turn. "Tyke's up," James said cheerily, his black mood lifted by the sound.

"Very useful, I'm sure," Severus said acerbically, thinking of sharp-eared elves and the sound of a human child echoing across the glens.

"Oh cheer up Severus, he's got a good set of lungs. Besides, wouldn't you cry if you had been brought up on the run, living in caves?" James asked, cocking his head inquisitively.

"I was a very quiet child."

"I'm sure you were," James said, all his worries chased to the back of his mind.

Narcissa walked out of the cave, the squalling baby looking over her shoulder as she rubbed his back. She scowled at the men and said sarcastically, "Could you talk louder please, I don't think you've woken Draco."

James and Severus apologised and Narcissa went back inside out of the rain, shushing baby Draco and bouncing him lightly. Severus turned back to stare out into the rain, James beside him. His mind wandered back unthinkingly to those horrific days again, when the group had discovered quite how fast elves could move.

Instead of an easy – relatively - walk north, they had had to avoid or fight bands of elves to make any progress. The elves had swept up from Bath and Oxford, driving towards Manchester and the remains of the Ministry, and cutting off Severus's passage north. Out of the ten who had left Edge Hill only four survived, five if you counted Draco. They'd lost the Prewett brothers first, the twins bravely remaining behind as the rest had fled to freedom. Marlene McKinnon had died from a sword wound that wouldn't heal, Edgar Bones from eating the wrong mushrooms.

They'd walked on, the idea of a sanctuary on a Hebridean Island drawing them onwards despite the difficulties. Severus had expected pranks or an attack of some sort from Potter, but as the weeks turned into months he saw that the Gryffindor had changed. One night while sharing a watchfire James had even apologised, and when Severus had looked in his eyes he'd seen nothing but honesty and self-recrimination.

The hardest death had been Lily's. Severus, James, and Frank had gone hunting for deer in the grounds of a stately house, leaving the girls to rest in nearby woodland. Narcissa had gone into labour; her screams attracting a passing elvish patrol. By the time the men got back there were half a dozen dead bodies and one new addition to their group. They'd buried Lily's cloak and wand under the roots of an oak tree, her name carved into the bark above. The bodies they'd burnt, unsure what was who.

Travelling with a newborn wasn't easy, but they all doted on him; a symbol that not all was lost. Little Draco had given James especially something to focus on, a light in his darkening world. He loved to have him strapped to his front in a fashioned sling and would point out all the different species of plants, or tell him stories. Severus rolled his eyes at the behaviour, but was quietly glad that the boy would have a guardian to spoil him as well as one to keep him safe.

Frank's luck in finding supplies had finally run out when they were crossing the line of Hadrian's Wall. They'd waited three days, as long as Severus would allow, then they'd moved on, Alice weeping silently as they walked.

She was climbing up the hill now, her figure distorted by the bag slung across her back and the strange lumps dangling round her neck. When she reached the top she dumped the heavy bag at Severus's feet and groaned.

"Need some help there?" James quipped, trying not laugh at the black look he received.

"Potatoes, onions, and rabbits," Alice said when she'd regained her breath, pointing at the sack and standing up so they could see the string of onions and brace of rabbits around her neck.

"Rabbit stew, excellent," James congratulated.

"Again?" muttered Severus, wishing he'd appreciated the variety of food at Hogwarts more. He'd love something other than rabbit, or pheasant, or deer. A nice sausage maybe, or a bit of beef. He sighed heartily.

"Don't knock the rabbits," said James, "They're better than squirrel."

"True."

"There's something else too," Alice said, scowling at the sky as the rain deepened. "I couldn't bring it up but... There's a goat at the bottom of the hill."

"A goat?" asked James.

"A goat?" Severus echoed, asking, "Dead?"

"No! Alive."

"Why would we want a live goat?"

James snapped his fingers and said, "Milk."

"That's what I was thinking," smiled Alice.

"Do you know what goat milk tastes like?" Severus said, making an icky expression, "It tastes of goat."

Walking past, James slapped him on the shoulder and said, "You don't have to drink any then."

Severus scowled at James's back as he trotted back down the hill to fetch the goat. The last thing they needed was another noisy animal; though maybe a silencing charm could see to that. It certainly wasn't an option for Draco, even Severus's paranoia rebelled at that. A thought crossed his mind and he stopped Alice from lugging the potatoes into the cave with a soft touch.

"How did you get the goat? They're normally kept in barns, aren't they?" he asked.

"Ah. I was hoping you wouldn't ask me that," admitted Alice.

"Alice."

Alice winced at the warning tone in Severus's voice, looked longingly towards the sheltered cave, and sagged saying, "I was raiding one of the outhouses and the farmer came out-"

"You were wearing the cloak?" Severus interrupted.

"Yes! But it didn't seem to matter. He looked right at me and then beckoned me to follow," Alice held up a hand in defence. "I know I shouldn't have done but he, well, he reminded me of Dumbledore. Anyway, he took me to the barn, manhandled a goat into a halter and handed me the rope. I could hardly say no. Besides, it'll be useful. Narcissa's got to wean Draco at some point, and if it becomes an inconvenience, well, you said you wanted something other than rabbit stew."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He knew more about the elves than any of the rest of them, and had spent time and mental anguish getting them to understand that no one was safe to talk to anymore. It seemed his lesson hadn't sunk in.

"Tell Narcissa to get her things together. You too," he said steely.

"Severus-"

"We're moving."

"But Severus-"

"No. Do you understand what could happen now? Even if that farmer doesn't betray us directly, when the next patrol comes through he'll be forced to. Then they'll search this area. And they'll know approximately how many of us there are – from the food you were taking – and that we have a goat with us. Animals slow people down, Alice. We have to leave. Now."

Severus pointed to the cave and Alice, her face a picture of misery, went in. Severus sighed: he hated being the voice of caution, but someone had to be. He looked back out over the rain-driven hills and ignored Narcissa's voice from within the cave saying: "He's been through a lot, dear." How true that was. He'd lost everyone who'd meant anything to him: Voldemort, Lucius, Morrigan, Lily; and now he was on the run from vicious elves with the last Pureblood son of Britain and his mother, a blood traitor, and a Half-blood. This was not what he'd had planned for his early twenties.

The sound of someone softly coaxing a reluctant animal heralded the approach of James and the goat. He took one look at Severus's face and swore quietly. "I don't suppose we can wait until dark?" he asked, the goat now headbutting him.

"No," replied Severus shortly.

"You know I have a healthy respect for your paranoia, it's got us out of many a bad situation, but do you really think-"

"Yes."

"Alright," James sighed and handed the rope leading to the goat over. "I'll help the girls pack up."

Severus looked at the goat, who stared back, and then murmured, "Not what I had planned."

-o-

They had headed north-east, leaving Hogwarts behind them. James half-expressed a desire to go to the castle, but the idea was quickly squashed on seeing the army encamped outside the school. It was late afternoon now and they were walking through the Caledonian Forest. It made a nice change to the wide moors and windy fells, but Severus had a prickling feeling at the back of his neck. He kept his wand close and the small group moving, his eyes roving endlessly, searching for trouble.

When it came it came fast. The patrol of elves stepped from the trees, appearing from nowhere, and surrounded them. Immediately the wizards went on the offensive; Narcissa moving to the centre of the group automatically. With two trained Aurors and the last Death Eater against them, the surprise advantage of the elves quickly dissipated. Severus struck out, the killing curse flying from his wand, part of his mind working on moving in concert with James and Alice. Together they had fought off elves, wolves, and even a band of muggles who were driven by hunger. They had learnt each others styles and formed a near-perfect triumvirate.

After a few minutes and many dead elves, the attackers melted away back into the woods. Severus kept his eyes forward, but listened to Alice checking on Narcissa and Draco.

"I'm fine, we're both fine, aren't we little dragon? Thank you."

"And the goat's run off," James noted, before tapping Severus on the arm, "They've gone."

"They've never retreated before," Severus said concerned as he stretched his senses out.

"That's because we've always killed them all before," James pointed out.

Severus nodded, not entirely reassured. Nevertheless, he turned to pick up his fallen pack and get everyone moving again. Something brushed past his cheek and slammed into the half-full bag of potatoes. He stared at it for an instant, not quite able to understand what he was seeing, then his brain whirred into action and he turned back, shouting, "Arrows! Shield!"

The hard shield went up as the arrows rained down. They rattled off the magical sphere like acorns on a tin roof. The arrows stopped and the elves rushed out of the trees; not a handful like before but dozens of warriors, bronze armed and red-haired. Severus barely had time to snatch up a fallen sword before they were upon him and he was fighting for his life.

A cry from beside him made Severus glance at James. He was pulling an arrow out of his arm and angrily throwing it back at the elves. The wound looked bad but it would heal quickly, James' mysterious power would see to that, if they got through this alive. Severus went back to parrying sword blows and killing elves.

Narcissa's scream distracted him long enough for an elf to lay a bare hand on his wand and hit him round the face. As his wand exploded Severus saw that Alice was dead, a spear through her heart, and that Narcissa was fighting like a mother bear as Draco was snatched from her and cruelly killed. Severus' vision narrowed and he lashed out at the elves with fist and blade, his anger, hatred, and grief pouring out in every blow. The elves retreated from him for a second before pouring back in to force him down.

As the punches and blows slipped past his guard Severus knew he was the only one left standing. Narcissa lay dead next to her child; James cut to pieces beyond the help of his healing power. Severus struggled on until the blows became too much. His last thought was of Morrigan.

-o-

Severus was awoken by being kicked in the ribs and dragged to his knees. He looked blearily up and saw that he was in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Gone were the long tables and House banners; instead there were armoured elves and one tall chair. In it sat King Lleu. Severus tried to rise, a snarl tearing from his throat, but strong hands held him down.

"Severus Snape. The Last of the Death Eaters. Welcome to my final conquest of Britain. You will no doubt want to celebrate with me today, for I have done what your leader could not – I have killed Dumbledore," King Lleu said, smiling widely as he watched Severus's struggles.

"Albus Dumbledore was a good man," spat Severus, "He was a wizard."

"And thus better than me?" King Lleu raised an eyebrow, "Then how is it that he is dead and I am not?"

Severus snarled again, using all his strength to stand against the power of the elves. He took one step before a blow to his gut folded him back to his knees.

"Enough, Mongan," commanded the King. He held up a hand and beckoned forward a woman standing in the shadows behind him, "What do you think, my dear?" he asked.

"I think you are a merciful King," the woman replied.

Severus froze at the voice; he knew that voice. Unwillingly he raised his head and took in the red hair, the green eyes. "Lily," he breathed. It was her, standing beside the throne, a pale blue dress accentuating her curves. She met his eyes with a look of deep sorrow, and in an instant he knew why she had been saved. Her magic, her hair, her fiery spirit, all were elvish traits; traits that would breed true.

"You are right, my dear," said King Lleu, and he nodded to his brother.

Severus heard the hiss of metal, felt the elf pull back his head. The blade was cold as it cut into his neck, but Severus didn't scream, didn't struggle, and the last thing he saw was those green eyes.


	44. The enemy of my enemy

**Thank you so much to Half-Drowned Dracula, beta-extraordinaire, who has corrected, encouraged, and been just brilliant. I recommend her betaing skills to all. LB**

Chapter Twenty-Five

Severus woke up screaming and yelling, unable to hear Morrigan calling desperately as he stumbled out of bed, caught his foot in the covers and fell to the floor. He scrambled away, the images of death running before his eyes again and again, the feel of the cold metal still vivid against his skin. Jerking away from Morrigan's worried touch he loudly denied all he had seen, was seeing, would see.

The door opened and Lucius, wrapped in a dressing gown, walked in. He took in the situation at a glance, and before Morrigan could rise he was kneeling beside his friend. Taking Severus by the shoulders he looked into his eyes and saw the horror and madness within. He almost recoiled but instead took a breath and said to Morrigan, "There's a calming draught in the Bathroom Cabinet."

Morrigan nodded and hurried away, glad to be able to help. Lucius focused on Severus, and turned to the task of extracting information.

"What did you see?"

"Dead, dead, they're all dead. No, no, not her, not like that, not them! The boy, all dead, all gone," Severus babbled, rubbing his throat furiously.

"Severus!" Lucius shook him, trying to break through.

Severus stopped babbling abruptly, looked up and half-recognised Lucius. He started laughing hysterically, "We're all going to die!"

The vial of Calming Draught was pressed into Lucius's hand, and he forced Severus's head back against his struggles. Pouring it down his throat, he held his nose to force him to swallow. Severus coughed and spluttered, pushing away from Lucius into the corner of the room where he started rocking slightly.

"Severus?" Lucius called gently. Then, getting no response, snapped, "Severus. What did you See?"

Looking over bleakly, the Calming Draught now starting to kick in, Severus replied in a hollow voice, "Endless death. They won, we died."

Lucius bent down and asked, "How can we change it?"

"I don't know," Severus said, turning away; he didn't want to think, didn't want to analyse or care about the future. It was hopeless.

"It wasn't real," Lucius said, placing his hands gently on Severus's shaking shoulders, "It was a dream. Now: think. What was the first thing you saw, what was the trigger?"

Severus tried to shy away; why should _he_ have to look, have to search through the horrific images and painful memories for an answer. Why him? The hands on his shoulders held him firm against him wishes, and Lucius's insistent voice made him look. Darkness, anger, grief, they flooded through him as he Saw it all again.

"Voldemort," he burst out.

"Good," praised Lucius, hating that his calm and controlled friend had been picked apart by these maddening visions, "What about him?"

"Without... Without him there was no leadership. It all fell, falls apart, everyone... dead, all-"

"What about the Minister?"

"Useless. Dead," Severus groaned.

"Dumbledore?"

"Dead. Hogwarts. Protecting the children."

Lucius nodded, that sounded right. Dumbledore would protect the next generation first, hoping to remain safe within the ancient magic of Hogwarts Castle. If they needed a leader in a crisis then Dumbledore would not be his first choice, and if the Minister was useless that only left... "We will break him out," he said, standing, "The new recruits-"

"No!" interrupted Severus, clawing at the trailing folds of Lucius's dressing gown. "That's what you did, have done... You died! We all died!"

"Then-" began Lucius, frowning.

"You need more trained men," said Morrigan quietly in the background.

Severus nodded violently, the memories haunting him as he cried out, "I can't see you crucified again!"

"Alright. Alright. I'll solve it, somehow. We won't go alone. I promise," Lucius said, rattled by Severus's outburst. He peeled his gown free of the man's strong grip and moved to the door. He had got all he could from Severus, he could see that. Now the man needed rest, and peace, and he need to find a solution. Morrigan was waiting by the door, tears running freely down her face even as she held herself tightly. "He'll be fine," Lucius comforted, glancing back at Severus, "Give him another Calming Draught in half an hour. He won't sleep again tonight."

He opened the door and walked out into the cold hall between his bedroom and the guest suite where Severus was staying. His mind was full of thoughts, ideas chasing each other round; and above all trying not to think of his death, the death that Severus had Seen.

"Lucius," Morrigan called softly from the doorway.

"Hmm?" He paused and looked back.

"How long has Severus been a Seer?" she asked.

"Um. One and a half, maybe two years. Why?"

"No reason. Thank you." Morrigan shut the door and looked over and Severus, still huddled in the corner muttering to himself. Murmuring she said, "Oh Severus. Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you say you had my powers?"

XoxoX

South of Tintagel there is a river inlet and a small fishing port named Padstow. There the people tell a legend about the founder of the town, named St. Petroc. A terrible white dragon was ravaging the countryside, terrifying the inhabitants, and overturning fishing boats. St. Petroc heard of this and came to deal with the magnificent pest. He placed a girdle around its neck and thus the beast was tamed. St. Petroc led the dragon down to the seashore and let it loose into the sea. It was never seen or heard from again. Legends often contain a grain of truth, and so it is with this one.

Beside the hill that rises above Padstow a dark figure stood. Anyone who saw him would have through that he was slouching to one side; until they looked closer and noted that he had one leg shorter than the other. His back was also strangely curved, a hump around his shoulders dipping his head in a permanent servile posture.

He was far from a servant.

The man scattered a dusty mixture from a bottle on the ground and pulled out a short belt knife. With a swift cut he pricked his callused finger and let three drops fall.

The ground began to shake.

The man muttered a few unintelligible words; rocks and dirt rolled down from the trembling hill.

The man spoke again. The top of the mound ripped apart and a clawed hand reached forth, tearing at the earth around it. With great thunderclaps two wide wings burst forth, shading the ground with their magnificence.

The man looked on, struggling to keep his balance as a sinuous neck wrenched a horned head free.

The white dragon let loose an almighty bellow: it had been woken from slumber and now it was free. With golden eyes it searched for its saviour, even as it pulled the rest of its body free from confinement. The swinging head, the size of a man, came to a stop before the twisted figure. He put forth a hand and placed it on the scaled snout, murmuring in gratitude that it had answered his call. The dragon snorted, almost sending the man flying, and stretched out his neck along the ground to allow the man to mount him.

High above the clouds Bran and the white dragon flew swiftly east, the elf crouched low on the beast's neck. Its scales shone like silver in the mist, and its wings parted the air with ease. Together they would reached Windsor and bring down the magical barrier. Then Lleu would march on London and destroy the heart of Britain. Far below them, Mongan sped towards Tintagel with a prisoner in his midst.

Between them the three elvish brothers would crush Britain, heart, soul, and spirit, and this land would once again bow to them.

XoxoX

Albus was sitting at his desk, a cup of hot tea in hand, when the fire flared green and Lucius Malfoy stepped out. He was well-dressed as usual, but looked slightly strained. Albus offered him tea and a seat, and they exchanged the formal pleasantries. During a lull the older wizard looked over his half-moon glasses at Lucius, remembering the Prefect who had left school filled with unmatured ambition.

"Somehow, Lucius, I do not think you came here for this most excellent blend," he said, refilling his tea cup.

"No. I... find myself unsure for the first time in a long time, and I believe you can help me. There is something you ought to see," Lucius said, slipping out his left cuff-link and rolling up his sleeve. There, in the crook of his elbow, the Dark Mark snaked blackly.

"Ah," said Albus, a little sadly.

Lucius rolled back down his sleeve, not wanting to meet the old man's eyes. He could hear the disappointment in his voice, and though he had no attachment to Dumbledore, indeed held very different views from him, there was still a part of him that felt the wizard's regret keenly.

"You survived the attack unharmed."

"I was fortunate. Albus-" Lucius got up and walked to the window, hands folded behind his back. "So many are dead, elves ravage our land, and Lord Voldemort has been captured."

"Most unfortunate."

"He's undoubtedly been taken to Tintagel. In fact I know it. I, we have a...source." Lucius paced uneasily round the room, examining the sleeping portraits, lingering over the Slytherin Headmasters, trying to find the balance of words. Facing Albus he saw the man's steepled hands and grave face, and said, "Without Lord Voldemort our destruction is inevitable. And I mean all of us, not just..." he touched the Mark under his sleeve, and continued, "They look to me as leader but I am not-"

"You underestimate yourself, Lucius," Albus said softly, "You always did."

He smiled thinly and said, "Perhaps."

"If you are looking for advice, I'm afraid our beliefs are just too different," Albus said, spreading his hands regretfully.

"I know. I'm not looking for advice. I need something more...substantial."

Albus appeared to contemplate Lucius's words, but finally said, "I do not know if there is anything I can provide. Perhaps the Ministry-"

"The Ministry is incompetent," interrupted Lucius, slicing his hand through the air. "I cannot trust them. And they will not trust me. You do have something. You know, and I know it."

He leaned forwards, placing his hands on the desk and lowering his voice, "The Order, Albus, The Order of the Phoenix. Trained men who have battle experience, who are not afraid, or bound by petty rules. You...influence them. I must get in to Tintagel, free Lord Voldemort. But I cannot do that with twenty men, not even with perfect plans could I do it. And I have been told of the consequences should I fail. You may be content to protect this castle, but I must take that one."

Lucius straightened, and walked over to where a small silver object was spinning slowly. He folded his hands behind his back and spoke to the air, "Though we hold very different beliefs, Albus, I think we can agree on one thing," he turned and said forcefully, "The elves must be stopped."

"Indeed," agreed Albus sincerely. He unfolded his tall form from behind the table and went to look out over the lake. A few students drifted round it, the worry and tension almost visible in the air. The magic of Hogwarts would protect them here for a long time, but the rest of the country – their friends and families – did not have the same advantage. "Tell me, Lucius, is Morrigan Le Fay among your numbers?"

Frowning at the apparent change of subject, Lucius nodded, "Yes, she is...available." What was going on? What possible interest could Dumbledore have in Le Fay? Her information was important, yes, but all of it was known to Lucius. There was something here that he did not understand.

"I believe we can come to some arrangement," Albus said smoothly, not giving away any of his thoughts. "I will require a little time to talk with the Order."

"Only a little time, Albus," Lucius warned, setting aside the question of Le Fay for a moment.

"You will hear word from me with the day," he said gravely.

"Very good," Lucius agreed, picking up his cloak from the back of his chair and moving towards the fire. He was relatively certain Albus would convince the Order to meet with him, and once that was accomplished he should be able to persuade them to work with, rather than against, the Death Eaters. Which left the question of Morrigan, one he wanted to pursue with her at the earliest opportunity.

"Lucius," Albus said, as he was about to enter the green fire, "It took a great deal of courage to come here."

"I am no Gryffindor, Albus," Lucius scoffed, "The rewards merely outweighed the risks."

He span in the fire, vanishing in a blaze of light. Had anyone been watching they would have thought that the triumphant twinkle in Albus Dumbledore's eye was merely a reflection as the fire settled back down to burn steadily away.

XoxoX

The house looked safe; a couple of lights shining from the windows and shadows showing movement inside. Lucius waited patiently for Bella and Nott to return. It was cold on this small Hebridean Island, the wind driving straight off the Atlantic with only the Outer Hebrides to break its flow from the west. The few trees around the house broke the worst of it, but it was still cold enough to make him shiver.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Le Fay muttered from beside Severus.

"No, but we have no choice," Lucius said, seeing Severus huddle deeper under his cloak. He had recovered somewhat from last night's vision, but he was still not back to his usual self, and Lucius was starting to become truly concerned about the toll these visions were taking.

"They're not likely to welcome us with open arms," Morrigan huffed.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend," Severus said quietly, "He won't turn us away."

Morrigan grunted, she was not in the best of moods with Severus. She knew as well as him the way the nightmares effected the mind, the way they crept into your psyche and distorted everything around you. He refused to talk about it though, he wouldn't even listen when she had told him that she knew what they were, that she'd had them once. Added with the fact that she was about to see those people the elves-inside-her-head had forced her to betray, Morrigan was about ready to walk away.

Nott and Bella appeared out of the darkness, nodding to Lucius. He signalled in return and the group stood and made their way up the gravel drive. The rapping of his cane against the door sounded like gunshots in the night, and the door opened quickly. Alastor Moody was clearly unhappy with the idea of a non-violent meeting between the Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters, and he wasn't afraid to show it as Lucius and his group entered.

He gave a short barking laugh at seeing who was at the door and said sarcastically, "So nice of you to come. _Please_ come on through."

Lucius didn't allow the ill-feeling to affect him; this meeting was too critical to be bothered with petty grievances. Shown down the corridor and into a large dining room, Lucius felt a touch of surprise; though he had guessed at many of the Order members, he hadn't expected quite so many Aurors. Either more people were disaffected with the Ministry than he had imagined, or the Order had selected all their Aurors for this meeting.

The Prewett twins stood in the centre along one side of the table, with Potter, his girl Evans, Remus Lupin, and a seated Dumbledore on their left, and Frank Longbottom on the right. Moody clumped into the room and took his place next to Longbottom. Silence was allowed to grow in the room as the Death Eaters faced their adversaries. There were more than a few raised eyebrows and muttered words at who was representing the Death Eaters. Most had guessed that Bellatrix would be among them, but the sight of Nott, Lucius, and Severus Snape ranged across from them was clearly not a expected one. Lily Evans in particular was giving Severus some very hard and disappointed looks. The tension levels began to rise, and Lucius could see that either Moody or a Prewett would break soon if someone didn't say something.

"As you are undoubtedly aware," he said calmly, cutting the unhappy quiet with his words, "three days ago our Headquarters at Edge Hill were attacked and almost all killed. Bellatrix survived, as did the Dark Lord. He was captured and is now at Tintagel. Thanks to Morrigan Le Fay-"

"I was wondering what she was doing here," Moody said, scowling at the woman who had escaped Azkaban and the Ministry's clutches.

"Morrigan has given us vital information about Tintagel."

"She let the elves out in the first place!" Lily said angrily, Remus backing her up with a emphatic nod.

"The elves were controlling her," Severus said quietly, not daring to look at Lily directly. Those eyes were haunting him, making him feel the despair and pain all over again.

"That's what she'd like you to believe," retorted Lily.

"Lily," James caught her arm as she pointed accusingly at the shrinking Morrigan. He shook his head lightly, the look of grief never leaving his eyes, as it never had since Sirius had gone. He turned to Lucius and said, "Go on."

Lucius bowed his head in thanks, glad that Potter seemed to no longer be the hothead he remembered from school. "The information has led us to the conclusion that our minimal numbers would be too few to effect a successful rescue."

"Rescue?" Gideon looked sharply at Dumbledore, "You didn't say anything about a rescue."

"You said we needed to destroy the castle so that the elves would have no way of bringing reinforcements," Fabian added.

"Indeed," Albus said.

"Destroy the castle?" Morrigan questioned, frowning in confusion at the audacity of the idea, "You can't_ destroy_ Tintagel. It's...it's...Tintagel."

"We know that," Remus said half-smiling.

"I'm sorry, but I think I misheard you. You want us to help you rescue _Lord Voldemort_?" Fabian pressed.

"Yes," replied Lucius.

"Don't you use his name, you blood traitor," Bellatrix snarled.

"Blood traitor we may be, but at least we don't have blood on our hands!" Gideon responded angrily.

"Why would we want to help you? Let the elves have him!"

"Because if you do not help us free him then the elves will win. Britain will fall into darkness and everyone here will die. There will be no free dawn again," Severus said harshly, cutting through the growing arguments. Silence fell immediately, the intensity and feeling behind his words making them impossible to ignore.

"You know this?" Frank asked.

"I-"

"We have a Seer among us," Lucius interrupted smoothly, deliberately not looking at Severus. He happened to see Dumbledore's reaction as he spoke the words that blurred Severus's involvement, and was surprised to see him straighten and fix his friend with a curious, and fascinated, stare.

"If you have a Seer why didn't she tell you about Edge Hill?" Moody asked, his smile indicating that he thought he'd found the hole in the Death Eater's defences.

"Seers don't See everything," Nott said clearly, "My great-great-grandmother was a Seer. She didn't foresee the fact that she'd be killed in a freak accident involving a misplaced potion, a Hippogriff, and a large box of nails."

"It doesn't matter. We're not helping you," Gideon shook his head.

"Then we won't help you," Bellatrix said snidely, "It cuts both ways, blood traitor."

"We only need to work together to get into the castle, then we can go our separate ways," Nott suggested.

"And have you stab us in the back the first chance you get?" Moody snorted, he knew them, he knew they were treacherous through and through. Damn Slytherins.

"Or leave us to the mercies of the elves," Lily added, staring hard at Bellatrix LeStrange, "You people are good at that; getting innocent people killed."

"If you're talking about that Carr girl-" Bellatrix began.

"She's wasn't just some girl!

"Death Eaters can't be trusted. Look at what happened at Goring!" Fabian snapped, waving his arms.

"They'd kill us all in an instant," agreed Gideon.

"Then why did you agree to this meeting?" Nott argued.

"I didn't!"

"Never trust them!"

"I didn't kill her, it was the elves!"

"You good as handed them the rope!"

Overlapping arguments rose, causing people to yell louder and louder, trying to be heard above the cacophony, though in truth most didn't care what the other said, only on proving they were right. Yet throughout the incendiary remarks and blatant hatred no wands were drawn. They all knew in their hearts that there was a greater evil to deal with that the one across the table. Every wizarding life, even those previously considered worthless, was now vital to success.

Looking down the table, Albus caught Morrigan's eye; she looked tired, not taking part in any argument but keeping herself out of the limelight even as her name was said in heated debate. Albus gestured to the soft chairs by the fire and smiled slightly. She took a obvious breath and nodded, moving round the table, avoiding the flailing arms, to join him.

"What do you want, Dumbledore?" she asked in a worn voice as she sank into the fire's warmth.

"A curious thing occurred at Tintagel two years ago," Albus began, "One person walked in with a remarkable array of powers, and five people walked out with them. I had wondered if young Severus had gained anything in the exchange, and I am sorry to see that he was fated to received the most troubling of the powers. There is one thing I do not know: do you still have your powers, were they merely replicated by the Wild Magic, or was it a straight exchange?"

Morrigan folded her arms defensively, her gaze hard as she asked, "How do you know anything about what happened?"

"Not everyone is as adept as hiding things as young Severus."

Licking her lips nervously, Morrigan glanced back over at the arguments raging over the table. Then she said quietly, "I lost them all. Every power I had. And I didn't know where they had gone until last night. You're saying that they got separated?"

"Yes," Albus replied simply.

"In to?" prompted Morrigan.

"Wandless magic, an animagus ability, healing, and resistance to spells. Not including-"

"Foresight," Morrigan finished, a little surprised that Dumbledore had given up the information so quickly. But then his motives had always been a little obscure. She stared into the fire, watching its flickering light as she processed the information. Her powers, those she had been born with thanks to her elvish father, had been cast out by Tintagel's power, and thrown into the others by the Wild Magic. Tintagel had then chucked the others out of the castle, sending them home, while trapping her within its walls. She had been, and remained, powerless; the magic she should have had from her Witch mother and Wizard father never appearing to take the elvish magic's place. One mother, two fathers, and no magic.

"You say you lost all your powers. But you still have the power of Tintagel, do you not?" Albus said, interrupting her contemplations.

"Tintagel?" She repeated, "No. I have _no_ powers. Of any nature."

"My dear, the bond between a lord and his castle can only be broken by death. Hogwarts is a little younger than Tintagel, but it has the same nature, the same power. As its Headmaster I have been granted use of that power, and will have until my death," Albus looked kindly at the nervous young lady and said softly, "You need only return to Tintagel to claim your birthright."

"Return? No. NO. I'm not going back there. I can't. I, I just can't," Morrigan said, her voice shaking with fear. She couldn't go back to that place – her feelings were too conflicted even to think of it. It had been her home and her prison; the place where she was both loved and tortured. She would never return so long as it was within her power. Shaking her head she rose sharply, "I don't care where my powers have gone. I don't have any. And I will never have any. Again."

"Lord Voldemort is your father," Albus said quickly but quietly, so as not to be overheard.

Morrigan stopped in her movement, looked back and saw the open truth in his clear blue eyes. She sat back down with a thump, her jaw dropping. "Wha-?"

"About twenty years ago I received an invite to a party at Tintagel. I was curious and decided to attend. There I found, not necessarily the best, but certainly the strongest wizards of the time. It was delightful, so many fresh minds among them. During the evening a young man by the name of Tom Riddle, who had been under my tutelage not long before, caught the eye of the young lady of the house, Maeve," Albus paused as Morrigan murmured to herself 'mother'. He smiled a touch indulgently and then continued, "They left the party together, and I did not see him again until about nine years ago. He came to Hogwarts and requested a position. Alas, I could not grant him his request. Tom then gathered power to himself; Pureblood wizards and creatures of all types, and he set out to change society. He now uses a different name of course."

"Lord Voldemort."

Albus nodded, watching the play of emotions on Morrigan's face. She was clearly confused, unsure what to do with the information, and how it fitted into her view of things, but underneath it all was a deep anger. At him, at Tom, at the world... Albus wasn't sure, though he knew that the anger needed to be released safely lest she follow her father's path.

"ENOUGH!" bellowed Remus, thumping the table to be heard through the multitude of arguments. A growl crept into his voice as he said into the shocked silence, "Arguing will get us nowhere."

Each side glared at the other, determined that they would never work together, that they were right in their opinions. Albus sighed silently, maybe the rift had grown too wide and too deep, but if that was true then everyone was in danger of falling into it.

"It doesn't matter," Morrigan said in the silence, looking only at Dumbledore even as all heads turned to her. "Tintagel is impenetrable. Even if I _wanted_ to get in, I can't."

"You apparated us in last time," Lily accused, anger framing her words. She hadn't realised the depth of her feelings towards the girl until she had seen her again, but she had found that she blamed Morrigan for everything that had happened. The elves, Beatrice, Sirius, James's depression... it was all her fault.

"I used an ancient spell, it takes the speaker home. But it requires immense power," Morrigan stood and walked to the head of the table, "I no longer have any kind of power, and don't regard that place as home," she looked around at the frustrated and worried faces and shook her head. Reaching to the curling blank parchments in the centre of the table she pulled one towards her along with ink and quill. Swiftly she drew out the lines of Tintagel, the coastline, entrance, and towers.

"There is a causeway to the main gate which is heavily fortified and defensible; it cannot be taken with any size or nature of army. The towers are built of Cornish stone and there is only one entrance on to the battlements – a wooden tower which can be locked and barred. The only other entrance is from the shore. Here. There is a set of steep stairs leading from the beach up to a hidden door. A door which can only be opened from the inside," she threw down the quill and pushed the plans away from her. Gesturing to them she said, "There is no way in. Not to rescue Voldemort, not to destroy the Doors. Not for anything," she turned back to Dumbledore and said roughly, "I'm not going back. Not for him. Not for you."

The collected wizards stared at the parchment, joined in their despair. The unusable entrances were clearly marked, the maze of corridors and passages of different ages sketched in. There had to be a way, otherwise the elves could bring in more men and Voldemort would die. The defenders of Britain had to find a way. Against overwhelming odds there was no defence.

Frank's eyes caught on the door on the battlements, "Is there no way that the door on the roof could be breached?" he asked.

Morrigan shook her head from her position slouched in a chair, "No. Even if you could you'd have to get to the door, and there's a colony of pixies living up there. They're the perfect alarm. Make a right racket when disturbed."

"All we need is a single man and an invisibility cloak," Severus looked up from the blackness inside him and stared at James. He hesitated a moment, reality-now warring with reality-not-yet-happened in his mind, then he said, "You have one of those... Potter."

"Yes, how did- Never mind. Yes, I have an invisibility cloak. Why?" James said, feeling a little startled. There was something in Snape's voice that had never been there before; if he could just lift the depression in his head for a moment he might be able to figure it out. But it was too hard, everything was too hard. He didn't want to be like this but the odds, the elves, Sirius...

"One man in an invisibility cloak could get past the pixies and through that door. It's only the elves that aren't effected by standard spells, not wooden doors. Alohomora ought to do it," Severus shrugged, and went on, pointing at the plans, "He then goes down this corridor, and opens the hidden entrance -"

"- Where we have a force waiting," Alastor's face cracked into something resembling a smile for a moment. Then he shook his head, "They'll have posted guards and be able to defend against a single attack."

Gideon grinned suddenly at his brother and said, "Remember third year. We found those pixies in the fifth floor store room."

"And put them in Sally's book bag," finished Fabian with a wistful expression.

"Right. We froze them," Gideon turned back to the rest and announced, "Pixies don't like the cold. That's why you don't tend to find them in Scotland."

Snapping his fingers, Nott cottoned on to their idea, and suggested, "We could lower the temperature on the roof a few degrees and have a second force waiting on the roof. Once the secret entrance is opened we all go in at the same time."

Albus smiled, maybe the abyss wasn't too wide to be bridged after all. Unfolding, he went over to the plans to see for himself the challenge these men and women faced. Tintagel was a complicated mass of rooms, corridors, and dead ends that had once led somewhere; most of the castle would have long ago succumbed to collapse and decay if magic had not been employed in its upkeep.

"I suggest a small group to attempt destroying the doors. They will be heavily guarded and the rescue can act as a distraction," he said.

"Not that it will be," butted in Bellatrix hotly.

"Indeed," he assured her.

"Albus, we still don't know how to destroy them. You seemed to indicate you had a plan..." Frank said, trailing off. Albus was never very forthcoming with his ideas, only dropping enough hints for the rest of them to work it out for themselves.

"Miss Le Fay has our solution. Using the power of Tintagel she can destroy the Doors," Albus said with a little smile as voices erupted around the table, all of them directed at him. Various opinions on the matter abounded, some asking why they weren't told sooner, some wanting to know what Albus was playing at using _her_. He held out her hands and the floor calmed into muted rebellion, and Albus looked at the girl in question.

Across the table Morrigan shook her head, and said harshly, "I told you: I'm not going!" She turned and walked out of the room, most of the eyes following her.

Lucius took half a step to go after her, but was held back by Severus. He shook his head in turn and said, "I'll go." Severus looked around the table and spoke to James, "She will do this, but don't expect her to be happy about it."

As he left the room to search for Morrigan he heard the discussion start up again. "So we have two main groups entering from the roof and the beach, with one small team focused on the doors. Aside from Le Fay who-"

"Severus and myself," Lucius said, as the door swung closed.

In the cold, dark parlour Morrigan was staring out of the window, arms folded, taking deep breaths to try and calm her emotions. Severus slipped in and wordlessly lit a few candles. The light sent shadows shivering round the room, making the world beyond the glass seem darker. He watched her for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to deal with this problem when his own mind and emotions were fragile.

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly.

"What for?"

Morrigan turned to face him, her voice cracking slightly even as she strove to keep it steady, "For being such a..."

"We both are," he shrugged, gave a small self-deprecating laugh, and held out a hand for her. She came willingly into his embrace, and he rested his chin on her head as they both tried to find a steady path in the madness that had invaded their lives. So much had changed in such a short time, and Severus felt as if everything he was had been stripped away. The visions had burnt a hole in him, as deep as his father's fists.

"Dumbledore told me something," Morrigan said in a muffled voice.

"Oh," Severus pulled away slightly to look down, and Morrigan completed the motion, moving away to stare out the window again.

Her swallow was audible before she said in a voice laden with overtones, "Voldemort's my father."

Severus opened his mouth to say something, shut it, tried again, and finally lapsed into confused silence. When Morrigan turned back his disbelief and bewilderment was writ large over his face. She nodded, "Yeah, that's how I feel."

He turned, paced, and somehow articulated, "Voldemort?"

"That's what he said. The man who murdered my mother is my father. It's like something out of a Greek Tragedy," she cursed, the anger starting to bubble now, "Not to mention the fact that he's a psychopathic, subversive, twisted, lunatic of a person."

"Psychopaths are lunatics," Severus absently corrected, asking, "If he's your father, why aren't you a witch?"

"I don't know. I don't care. I'm not going to accept that murderer is any relation of mine!"

"You don't seem to have a problem with me," Severus retorted.

"You're different."

"Really? Different?" Severus stopped her pacing by standing in her path and catching her eyes firmly with his. With a hint a snarl he said, "I've killed. Not just elves, but men, and women, and children. And I've done worse than murder. I tortured, harmed for no reason. I was the epitome of evil. I don't care about anyone but myself; I would betray you in an instant if I thought it worthwhile."

Backed against the wall Morrigan said in a small voice, "I don't believe that."

Severus turned away, not allowing her to see the fierce pain and emotion playing over his face. He wondered who he had been trying to convince. He knew who he had been, what he had done, but somehow he couldn't quite bring himself to believe his own words. He may have been that person once, but all of it had come from deep anger, anger that no longer felt relevant. He did care about someone else now, had done ever since he'd had that first vision of her scared and alone in Tintagel. He'd denied it for so long, pretended, but there was someone in his life now other than him.

"Severus? I don't want to go back there. And I don't want to see him," Morrigan said, a hitch in her breathing as tears started leaking down her face.

He tilted his head back and tried to put aside his own pain, for her. When he turned back to her his face was the picture of Slytherin calm again. "You have to," he said simply, "It is the only way to stop them. You can't hide forever."

Shaking, she went back into his arms and cried. He stood there stoically, allowing her release to be his too. When the worst of it was over he pulled a large handkerchief from his robes and handed it to her. Smiling softly he said, "If he is your father, you have the right to confront him about his behaviour. I can't promise that he'll listen, but you never know. Stranger things have happened."

"Like what?" she said, blowing her nose wetly.

"Like the Order of the Phoenix meeting with the Death Eaters to defeat a load of mythical elves and free the darkest Lord in centuries from a Cornish castle."

There was a beat, and then both of them burst out laughing. It seemed utterly ridiculous, even more so because it was true.

When they'd returned to a more serious demeanour, Severus took her hand and tilted his head in the direction of the meeting room. "Ready?" he asked.

Swallowing, she nodded, the thoughts of what she would do, what she would say when she saw Voldemort again thrust to the back of her mind. Right now there was a more immediate task – getting in to Tintagel.


	45. At the End of the World

Chapter Twenty-Six

James trapped the flapping edge of the cloak between himself and the broom, blew on his hands and checked his watch again. Then he dove, the cool air whistling by as he came in from over the sea to dart among the towers of Tintagel, his eyes fixed on his objective. Even now, with his blood pumping, adrenaline soaring, he couldn't stop the black thoughts in his mind. He was trapped in a web of darkness, spiralling downwards with only his despair for company. Violently, he forced himself into the moment. The squat tower rested along one of the long walls, rising just above a cluster of roofs. James sidled down, the booming of the sea against the rocks counterpointing the chittering calls of darting blue pixies.

Silently he landed, a pixie flying out to stare at where he wasn't and then vanishing back among the roofs. He stuck his broom to the outside of the wall and turned it invisible with a silent spell. Then he looked around. It was remarkably quiet up here, only the sounds of the wind and the sea disturbing the calm, and there wasn't an elf in sight. Shimmying along, James reached the door in double-quick time, his heart now doing the polka inside his chest. The door unlatched with a quiet clack and James let it swing open before oozing inside. He was right to do so; there were three elves on the other side playing cards.

As the door swung open they looked up and one of them sighed, "Blasted thing."

"Why are we guarding this again?" asked another.

"Orders," said the sigher, getting up and closing it, "Doesn't make a difference whether they're good orders or not. We do what they tell us to."

"And hope they know what they're doing," laughed the third elf, throwing down a full house and claiming the pot. As he did he felt a small pin prick on the back of his neck. He looked up to see green light flashing out at his companions, then he fell over, dead.

James moved the incapacitated guards to one side and checked his watch again. Five minutes. He ran down the stairs lightly, passing openings on his right: one, two; he took the third. Down a long corridor, second left, first right, and into some kind of drawing room. He was encountering more elves now, but these he avoided, trusting in his invisibility cloak as he stepped to one side and timed his footfalls carefully. Now came the truly tricky bit. There was a concealed door behind a panelled wall that led straight to the staircase down to the secret entrance, but unlike the door upstairs this one wouldn't be able to swing open in a fitful breeze.

He sneaked across the room, his presence hidden by the cloak and the liberal quantities of wine being imbibed by the lounging elves. It was a real shame he couldn't do anything with them all here and now, but that would take time and cause a ruckus, and if someone investigated then this mission would be over before it began. Feeling through the cloak, James found the smooth spot that Morrigan had told him about; when depressed this spot would open the door. Perhaps he should just tell it what his life was like: that would make it depressed! Shaking his head James looked about, keeping his finger in place. With this many elves in the room he needed a distraction. Briefly, his thoughts wandered to Sirius, who would have come up with a completely insane but utterly feasible plan by now. Then he spotted the fireplace.

Like any working fire it had a fire-guard in front of it to keep small children, feet, and embers from burning. This one was leaning slightly, its feet placed unevenly on the rug. James poked the barest tip of his wand out of the concealing cloak and gave it a magical push. Panic ensued as the guard fell into the fire, immediately catching alight and sending the elves to their feet. As the embroidered unicorn burnt, James opened the door and slipped through.

A long balcony stretched before him, overlooking the great hall and cloaked in gloom. The only light rose from the hall below. James peaked over the beautifully carved wooden railing to see elves scattered round the hall, great fires roaring in massive hearths, and lording it over all in a raised chair the dark elf Intel had said was called Mongan. He was sitting neatly, flipping his dagger end over end, a smug look of glee on his face. There was no sign of Lord Voldemort.

James padded on, keeping a keen ear alert for any sign of trouble. The thin stone staircase at the end of the balcony was pitch black, and he hesitated before lighting his wand a fraction. The stairs were within the inner keep wall and ran into the bedrock to a short sloping tunnel which led to the concealed entrance in the outer wall. It was the only way in or out of Tintagel by foot except for the main entrance, and James had seen the torchlight and moving figures around that from the roof.

There was a small guard room just before the outer stone door and James paused, hearing voices. He checked his watch again: two minutes now. He leant his head back against the cold stone and took a firm grip on his wand.

XoxoX

Outside the castle Severus was feeling damp, the cold sea spray threatening to turn him into an icicle as he sat huddled with one hand grasping Morrigan's. Around him a mixed but hardly comfortable group of Death Eaters and Order members waited, the booming sea making arguments impossible. With a nod, Lucius and Frank Longbottom rose from the churned pebble beach and set off for the cliffs. Severus pulled lightly on Morrigan's hand and they too joined the movement. Etched into the granite cliff were a set of rough stone steps that zig-zagged their way up to a tiny ledge right under the walls of Tintagel. In the darkness the black-cloaked men and women would be near-invisible against the grey rocks.

A storm was rising as they toiled upwards, a single line of people crawling up the stone, and Severus wondered how long these steps would continue to last against the power of the sea. A breaker swept in and crashed into the rock, drenching the climbers and throwing spray far into the skies. Finally they reached the top and a sheer stone slab, blending perfectly into its surrounds, swung open.

Inside it was dry and slightly warmer. There were several prostrate elves in a guard room, and James appeared grimly from beneath his invisibility cloak.

"Frank. Malfoy," he greeted with a nod, stuffing the cloak away and blending seamlessly into the group.

They hurried out of the chamber, along the tunnel and up the stairs. Pausing at the top, out of view, Morrigan and Severus crept forwards, keeping away from the edge of the balcony. About halfway along she stopped, felt at the wall in the darkness and pushed one spot. It didn't budge. She cursed under her breath, pressed harder, and then turned sideways and slammed her elbow into the groove. Silence from below made everyone hold their breaths for an instant. Then the elves began talking again. A concealed door had popped open and now Severus motioned the others forwards.

Beyond the door there was a room; a chamber off a staircase leading both up and down, large enough to hold all the group at a squeeze.

Severus turned to Lucius and asked, "How long?"

"Three minutes," he replied tersely.

Nodding, Severus settled himself against the wall and watched Morrigan while listening carefully. In three minutes the rescue party would freeze the roof and its accompanying pixies, then descend on brooms. With the door already open and unguarded, they would have little difficulty getting into the castle and causing an almighty distraction on their way down to the dungeons. When they did the Great Hall would empty to a degree, allowing them, the door destroyers, to enter with ease. Severus had no idea whether he would be able to hear anything from where he was, but he wasn't going to stop trying.

Morrigan fidgeted again and Severus reached out to press a steadying hand on her arm. She flicked him a quick false smile but he didn't accept it, whispering, "What's wrong?"

"I can feel the castle," she said, her hands moving unceasingly, "but I can't get at the power. It's like it's behind glass; I can see it but not touch it. This won't work if I can't."

"Perhaps you need to be closer to the Doors?" he suggested.

She jerked her head in a possible nod, ready to accept anything right now. Morrigan had protested the insanity of this idea many times in the last twenty-four hours, and although she had agreed to come back she still wasn't comfortable. She tried to focus on the future, on the outcomes of this mission, rather than the dire past. If this worked then the elves would be stymied, and she would have a chance to – well, she hadn't quite figured out what she would do or say to Voldemort when she saw him again. It really all depended on whether he knew, because if he did and he'd still treated her like that, well... kicking him would be high on her list.

Lucius held up his hand and signalled: waiting time was over. Frank sidled over to Morrigan as the majority of the men and women took the upward stairs.

"Just checking," he said, "Upstairs, left out of room, second right, past the horse tapestry, then..."

"Left. If you go right you'll get totally lost," Morrigan supplied.

Frank thanked her and headed off, clasping hands with James for luck on the way. Lucius looked around at those who were left – Severus, Morrigan, Potter, and the Prewett twins - "Ready?" he asked. Receiving nods all round he turned and led the way down the stairs.

XoxoX

The six black figures emerged from the dark archway to find a dozen elves still roaming around the Great Hall. A cry went up on seeing them, and the five men slid into action. They cut off the escape routes and cut down the elves, swords flashing and spells flying. Morrigan watched, an iron knife held tightly in her hand, feeling unable to act against these creatures who had forced her to set them free and then tortured her for months.

Seeing a soldier coming up behind Severus she stepped forward, willing to do for him what she couldn't to for herself, but strong arms came around her stopping her in her tracks. She struggled wildly, a harsh unfamiliar voice in her ear telling her not to. Flailing, she stamped down hard on her captor's foot; he yelped and she managed to thrown her pointy elbow into his ribs. He dropped her and she turned to defend herself, not seeing the fist coming the other way. The blow knocked her to the floor, splitting her lip and throwing blood onto the stone flags.

Suddenly the glass sheet between her and Tintagel shattered, and everyone paused in their fighting as the entire castle shook. When Morrigan looked up again it was with fire in her eyes. The soldier took an unintentional step back as she rose. Morrigan stared him straight in the eyes and said in a voice of cold steel, "Big mistake."

Fire erupted around her hands as she pressed them against his chest, the burning spreading inside his armour to bake him. When there was nothing left but ashes and empty armour she smiled and looked around. The small band of humans had won. They sallied over, the Order more reluctantly than the Death Eaters, and Lucius examined the unlucky soldier.

Raising an elegant eyebrow he said, "Interesting." and gave her an evaluating look. It seemed that the Le Fays never left a job half-finished. Her mother had torn a man apart at the behest of the Dark Lord, and now Morrigan had burnt a man to ashes in the protection of her life.

Severus placed a deliberately strong hand on her shoulder, not wanting to show his nerves, and gave her a questioning look. She smiled altogether too sweetly for what she'd just done and said, "Shall we see to those Doors?"

XoxoX

In another part of the castle, Nott was fighting for his life and wondering where the hell Longbottom had got to. Working their way down from the roof to the dungeons the forty-strong team headed by Nott and Bones had encountered resistance at every level. Right now they were stuck on the second floor in a series of rooms just off the back stairs, or at least one set of back stairs. Memorising the plans, as Nott had, had done nothing to prepare him for the confusing layout of Tintagel. Though stairs didn't move like they did at Hogwarts they did seem to appear in the most unlikely places. For instance one set emerged out of a cupboard, which had been a very nasty surprise when a dozen elves had burst out and attacked them.

A wild cry alerted Nott to Longbottom's timely arrival, and the enhanced group set about clearing a path to the dungeons. Heading downstairs the combined teams ran into more trouble, with other elves hot on their heels. They were fighting on all sides, and since wands weren't really designed for close combat they were bringing portions of the castle down with them.

Deep rumbling penetrated the firmament, pausing the fighting for a second. Nott skewered an elf and wondered what was going on. The trained Aurors didn't wait for answers, taking advantage of the elves' confusion to form a line and fire simultaneous bursts of deadly green curses. Admiring their precision Nott forged on, Bellatrix hacking and slashing beside him. She was in her element here, with so many targets to chose from and a deep-seated fury at the world driving her on. Her sporadic cackling was unnerving as well.

Reaching the ground floor meant negotiating the back stairs where they entered into a wide hall before diving down into the rock. There a hundred or so elves had assembled, fully armed and fierce. Bristling with magic shield piercing spears they looked quite dangerous. Alice poked her head around the corner before turning and sketching the situation out to Nott, Bones, and her husband.

"Physical shields?" suggested Edgar on hearing the number of spears.

"Where are we going to get shields?" Alice muttered looking round the tapestry-lined room and wondering if she could chuck a few of those over the elves' heads.

"We're wizards," Nott said in his least patronising voice, stifling his sigh. "We'll conjure them."

Two minutes later and every man and woman was armed with a shield; many of them wondering how to coordinate this with their wands and swords, were they wizards or soldiers? Thirty seconds after that and the elven spears were rattling off the round wood as they charged down the marble stairs. The clash between the two sides was loud, alerting any elf who didn't already know that there were intruders in the castle.

The fighting was understandably fierce, man and elf locked in combat, using everything and anything to take the other down. Shields were used as battering rams, slamming into the sides of heads and vulnerable midriffs before a quick slice with the sword ran iron into the blood. The temperature fluctuated wildly, with fire burning and ice freezing at every turn. Occasional flashes of green killing curse completed the tableau of flickering colours and clashing swords. Every wizard had agreed to a rule: Avada Kedavra was only to be used when the caster was certain it would only kill an elf. Enforced by promises and silky words of retribution the truce seemed to be holding, sadly for the elves. Even Lily and Bellatrix had exchanged no more than nasty looks and dirty words.

The battle waged back and forth, more elves running in replacing those who were lost. But finally the wizards were holding their own against the invaders, and at a pre-arranged shower of silver light the rescue team split off. They ran down the flight of stairs, Nott breathing heavily from his exertions. There was blood dripping slowly from a cut on his arm, and he found himself glad of the Order's presence. Without them – their training, experience, and numbers – this would have turned quickly into a bloodbath of the unhealthy kind.

Reaching the dungeon level Nott could see the door through which the cells lay. One more obstacle and they would be heading out. That obstacle presented itself in the form of a powerfully lithe elf and what looked like an elite guard.

"Mongan," hissed Bellatrix beside him, and at once every Death Eater among them tensed and looked viciously at the elf standing between them and their Lord.

Nott growled lowly and wore an honest expression of fury as he brandished his sword. With a war cry he launched himself forwards, and into the battle.

XoxoX

The wooden door which had separated the cavernous chamber where the rift to the Otherworld resided from the rest of the castle had been utterly destroyed.

As the band stepped through, Severus reflected that the place looked, and felt, a great deal different than it had done. Not least were the dozen elves standing ready to protect the entrance, and exit, to their world. A short and bloody battle ensued, resulting in dead elves and a grievous wound on Fabian's arm. While his brother treated it, James Potter asked, "Do you need to be on the other side?"

"No," replied Morrigan, "The Doors only close one way."

Severus looked over at the giant Doors, now fully open and displaying the side normally visible only to the Otherworld. They were a dull grey and tool marks were scattered all over them, though they were concentrated approximately where a body of men could use a battering ram. The marks looked weathered; the elves had been trying to escape for a long time. Unintentionally Severus felt his eyes drawn to the world beyond, from whence daylight flowed into the cavern. With it came the Wild Magic which set his teeth on edge. It felt like someone had rubbed a balloon on their shirt and then stuffed them _inside_ the balloon. Static rose every hair and the magic made him feel powerful, connected to something far greater than he could understand.

"I saw that... in dreams," muttered James, staring at the green land and the bright sunless sky. In the distance a fairytale castle rose, bright banners of Wild Magic streaming round its turrets.

In the centre of the cavern Morrigan lowered herself to her knees and turned her attention inside. Since the moment her blood had touched the stones of Tintagel she had felt magic flood into her again, and now she searched out the source. It started like the first raindrops heralding a storm, droplets of magic dripping into her heart, her soul, her self. Relaxing into the flow she encouraged it to strengthen, to fill her. As the drop turned into steady rain then a downpour of strong glowing magic she heard a faint music. Someone playing the piano through the rainfall in her mind. The power grew until her mind and awareness stretched outwards, the magic filling, overflowing, dancing.

There was a sharp moment of dislocating pain and then she was Morrigan no longer. Her magic was that of Tintagel, her mind was that of Tintagel; she was the castle and the castle was her. Thousands of years of magical habitation flowed through her corridors, her veins, making her a focal point for the strength of ages. They resonated together, of one mind, of one resolution.

Morrigan-Tintagel stretched forth with hands of magic, setting the air aglow and making winds swirl. She touched the edges of the Doors, feeling round them, grasping them with mind and magic. Gently she pulled. Once. Then again, harder. They would not budge.

Drifting with the contentment of a place long standing against the interminable wash of the endless sea, Morrigan-Tintagel considered the Doors. Once, she knew, they had glowed with magic, with the green bronze of a binding. Now, despite the labouring of the air against the Wild Magic, they were bereft of their power. Whatever spell had created them and kept them closed against the elves for the three thousand year span was long gone, and she had neither the knowledge nor the skill to replace it.

If she could not close the Doors, perhaps she could remove the need for them. Reaching forth once more, Morrigan-Tintagel placed tendrils of magic along the edges of the rift in time and space.

The wind grew stronger, howling round the cavern as the men stood strong against the elves now running towards them across the green sward. They had long abandoned their own magic, the magical maelstrom around them making it impossible to cast with any certainty. The form of Morrigan knelt on the floor, her eyes closed, seeming to be more than a slim female as she communed with the castle above.

Slowly Morrigan-Tintagel began to draw the edges together, knitting them with the magic running like a great river through her. The music in her mind swelled, a plea to stop from incorporeal elves trapped within the Wild Magic. She ignored them as Morrigan couldn't; she was Tintagel and was built to withstand. Light danced along the creeping edge of the rift, magic pulling, tying, creating firmament out of nothing, balancing the elements and forming a whole.

Now the Wild Magic itself began to protest its exclusion from the world of men and wizards, making winds rise and pushing back against the closing rift. Morrigan-Tintagel took it, turned it and made it a part of the weaving. Suddenly, to the wizards eyes, the gaping wound in the world swirled, turned back and in and distorted weirdly, becoming a howling void – a black conduit to the place between the worlds.

Morrigan-Tintagel fought to close the rift; this place was no friend to wizards. There was no mind, no magic, no life, no self. It was a place where existence was impossible, a place that humans could think of yet not imagine.

The gale turned, pulling everything into the void. The dead bodies rose and vanished into the black abyss, the Prewetts clung to each other and a torch bracket driven deep into the wall. James yelled wildly as he was swept off his feet, the void beckoning. He flailed, desperate to find purchase., fear widening his eyes and making him scream. From nowhere a hand reached out and grasped his wrist with an unheard smack, and he clutched at the lifesaver thankfully. He looked up and stared in shock at Severus Snape even as the wind tore at their clothes and hair, willing them to let go and fall deep within the emptiness.

Golden light gathered at the edges of the tear in the world, all the power of Morrigan-Tintagel now pouring into the effort to close it. The Doors ripped from their hinges, folding and bending with torturous groans as they followed the elves into the place between worlds.

Morrigan opened her eyes, lights sparking from them as she looked into the heart of nothingness.

The light vanished, the howling stopped, and the cavern plunged into darkness.

The wizards lay heavily, catching their breaths in the still air. Silence dominated the blackness, and a curious feeling of absence permeated the space. There was a soft sigh and the sound of someone collapsing. And then the roof fell in.

The Doors had been destroyed, the howling winds had ceased, and Severus lay on the floor of the pitch black cavern with his hand wrapped around James Potter's wrist. For some bizarre reason, probably due to the soul-searing vision he'd had two nights ago, he had chosen to save his school nemesis' life, a decision he would likely later regret. Groaning, he let go of Potter and put a hand to his throbbing head. A trickle of dust made him cough, and he heard a few pebbles falling. Instinctively, despite the fact that he couldn't see a thing, he looked up. There was a long drawn-out stony creak and then the roof began to collapse. Severus jumped up, lighting his wand and yelling over the crashing rocks for everyone to get out. In the dim light from his wand he saw the Prewett brothers scramble to their feet and make for the sole exit. Looking down, Severus pulled James up and pushed him onwards.

"What about Morrigan?" James yelled in his ear, trying to be heard over the tumultuous din.

Severus span wildly towards the centre of the cavern and the last place he had seen the Lady of Tintagel. There was so much dust in the air it was difficult to tell what was fallen stone and what wasn't, especially with more falling every second.

He ran through the hazardous space, the light from his wand sending the shadows shivering away. Distantly he heard Lucius calling his name, but all his attention was on finding his girl and not getting flattened by a rock in the process. Long seconds seemed like hours as he searched, and then his eyes picked out the dusty black of a wizarding robe from the fallen granite. Severus raced towards her, James hot on his heels, and groaned again, this time in dismay and despair.

Morrigan Le Fay, the woman who had just stopped any more elves marching into their world and dooming Britain, was trapped under a very large rock. The two wizards rushed over and immediately set their wands to it, working together as the roof of the cave continued to crash down around them. They tried numerous charms and spells, but though they could get the megalith to move slightly they didn't have the power to remove it completely.

"Severus!" cried Lucius from the foot of the stairs, "Get out of there!"

Severus turned, he'd thought his friend had left, but there he was – another wizard. "Help us!" he called out, and was mildly surprised to see the torn look his words precipitated on Lucius' face. The older man clearly could not decide between taking the opportunity to flee and save his own skin or to head back into the crumbling cave and help save one who had just helped save him. Severus needed to give him a greater incentive and so, fishing around from the one thing Lucius could not belittle, shouted back, "She's Voldemort's daughter!"

The shock that passed through Lucius was visible, even through the dust and falling stone. He whispered, "Damn," to himself, and hurried back to where Morrigan lay.

Together three wizards could do what two could not, and soon they were all racing for the exit, Morrigan cradled unconscious in Severus's arms.

As they reached the top of the steep stairs they realised in horror that the falling stone was not confined to the cavern below. The whole castle was disintegrating. Slates were crashing, splintering to the ground. Wooden beams groaned in protest as they were bent beyond breaking point. A large hole had opened up in the roof of the Great Hall, revealing the bewildering display of falling walls and glass against the storm-wracked sky. There was no one else in sight, and as fires began to flicker Lucius grabbed Severus's arm and said, "Malfoy Manor."

Severus nodded and as Lucius turned away to guide Potter through apparation he gave the castle another look. Without the magic which had sustained it for over two thousand years, Tintagel Castle was collapsing in on itself. The woman he now carried would never be able to come home again. Severus gave the place one last look, turned on his heel, and vanished.

XoxoX

Towers toppled, walls crumbled, and great wreaths of smoke and ash were thrown into the air. From the very depths a harsh cry was swallowed by the cacophony, and then, bursting forth from pale clouds of dust came a single bird – a hawk. It pierced the heavens with its hollow scream, feathers singed and trailing its own ash cloud. The bird tore furiously at the sky, burning its way east on wings of hatred, heading towards Windsor and family. Mongan would see the wizards perish for this treachery.


	46. Meetings in the Park

**A/N: Thank you to all those who read this story, I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it.**

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Severus sat in one of the guest bedrooms in Malfoy Manor next to Morrigan's sleeping form holding one of her hands in both of his. The Order's mediwitches, Ethel and Agnes Craft, had looked her over and declared all she needed was sleep. And that was precisely what she was doing.

Watching her now Severus could see pieces of the girl he'd met nearly three years ago in a dark Hogwarts corridor. He'd thought her interesting then, a mystery to be solved with Slytherin cunning. Never would he have guessed the journey that his curiosity would lead him on. Severus had changed a great deal since then; he'd become a Death Eater, had visions of the future, and saved the life of a man he'd once hated with all his heart. He still found her fascinating though; no longer a mystery dying to be solved, but a woman with passions and thoughts as complex as his own. Somewhere along the way mere interest had deepened, altered and now, though he would only just admit to himself let alone any one else, he... loved her.

So when Lucius entered the room Severus didn't look up, his eyes instead tracing the curves of her face once again.

Lucius conjured himself a chair and sat with a muffled sigh. Elsewhere the house was in chaos, Order members, Death Eaters, and Mediwitches dashing hither and thither. Narcissa, even more house proud than usual due to her fluctuating hormones, had taken over direction from the men and was planting order in the chaos. Lucius wished her the very best and had escaped as soon as was politic. He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the calm in this one room to seep into his skin. Then, almost reluctantly, he opened his mouth and asked, "How is she?"

"She'll be fine," Severus answered softly, "Miss Craft said she'd suffered an...overload of magic. It exhausted her. But she'll be fine. Once she wakes up."

"Good," said Lucius, nodding.

The men lapsed into silence again, though running footsteps and calling voices could be heard beyond the door. The sun crept from behind a cloud, sending rays of light drifting through the large window and setting motes of dust dancing. Severus leant forwards, letting the light warm his sallow skin.

"Did we succeed?" he asked, his eyes popping open as the thought occurred to him. "Is he..."

"Down the hall," replied Lucius, "They got him out just before the castle fell."

Severus grunted positively and added, "How is he?"

"Annoyed," Lucius said, the glimmer of a smile appearing on his lips. "Apparently he doesn't take well to being kidnapped and injured. And even less so to being administered to by the Craft sisters."

"He knows them?" Severus said, frowning.

"One or both were Matrons at Hogwarts while he was a student. I was ejected before I could discover more," Lucius said, his smile breaking out completely.

Severus raised an eyebrow, perhaps it would be worth cornering the sisters Craft for a short chat. Information concerning the young Lord Voldemort would be immensely valuable. Then Severus frowned internally; Lucius had just given him a piece of amazingly rare information and hadn't asked for anything in return. Was this payment for revealing the connection between Morrigan and the Dark Lord? If so why hadn't he said anything? This was very unusual, highly irregular, and not like a Malfoy at all. Severus turned and gave Lucius a penetrating look. Long seconds passed as Lucius pretended to ignore him, then, when dignity and convoluted Slytherin politics were satisfied, Lucius rubbed his injured shoulder and smiled _just so _at Severus.

"There is a meeting being organised between us, the Order, and the Ministry. They will want to know who our Seer is," he said in an even tone.

_Ah,_ thought Severus, _so that's why he was handing out information like a Ravenclaw. He wants me to agree to my name being used, to being branded both Death Eater and Seer for the rest of my life. Not to mention facing the wrath of the Dark Lord for not telling _him_ sooner. Well, the information may be good, and I do have a way of holding off the Dark Lord..._ Severus looked back at the woman who had shown an appreciable amount of affection for him – the woman who was also the Dark Lord's daughter. _Still, I may be able to acquire more from Lucius for this._

"That is a big request," he said aloud, placing slight emphasis on the adjective.

"Hmm," said Lucius disapprovingly, and the two fell into subtle negotiations.

XoxoX

Three hours later and Lucius Malfoy was walking along a woodland path behind Lord Voldemort with a name in hand and an almost full moon rising in the clear blue sky above. Beside him walked Bellatrix Lestrange and (Love) Nott, all dressed in their black Death Eater robes and white masks, not quite prepared to take the Ministry's words of amnesty at face value just yet. Lord Voldemort had not been best pleased when he'd heard of the Order-Death Eater alliance, and even less so at the idea of joining forces with the Ministry. It had taken all Lucius' powers of persuasion, along with the horrendous recounting of Severus' vision, to make him accept that oldest of aphorisms: 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend'. Once the idea had been accepted, however, Lord Voldemort had grasped at the opportunity to rid Britain of the elves. Though, Lucius recalled wryly, he had used far stronger and more colourful language to describe the invaders than that.

There was murmuring coming from the clearing ahead, no doubt the Minister and his aides were discussing the insanity of this meeting with Dumbledore and his cabal. Lucius privately found it highly amusing that although the Ministry claimed to be equal opportunity, all of their representatives were purebloods: Vincent Smythe, the Minister; Bartemius Crouch, Head Auror; David McNath, Head Unspeakable; and Agent, who Lucius vaguely knew had been in Slytherin a couple of years above him. In fact the four Order members present had the greatest diversity – a pureblood (Potter), a half-blood (Dumbledore), a mudblood (Evans), and a werewolf (Lupin).

Beside him Bellatrix stumbled over a tree root and Lucius offered his arm to his sister-in-law. She accepted it graciously and they entered the clearing. Someone, probably Dumbledore, had conjured a round table complete with squashy armchairs around which a number of mild arguments were already breaking out. As Voldemort and his followers arrived a nervous hush fell, hands automatically finding wands.

"Lord V-Voldemort, thank you for coming," Vincent Smythe, Minister, welcomed nervously, a slightly distasteful expression in his eyes.

"Minister. I am surprised to see you here. I would have thought you'd be cowering in London," Voldemort sneered, his tone a pure-blood's dream of condescension and superiority.

"Tom," greeted Albus Dumbledore, sitting in an armchair with his hands steepled before him.

Voldemort didn't reply to him, merely curling his lip in a silent snarl as he stalked over to a seat equidistant between the two opposing leaders. Lucius and the others followed, everyone now drawing round the table to take their place beside their choice of political leader. It was with a slight smile behind his mask that Lucius noted James Potter taking a seat closest to his boss, Barty Crouch. It seemed politics took a back seat when one's career was threatened.

Crouch shot a very nasty look at the three masked Death Eaters and snapped, "Do you not trust the amnesty we've offered?"

"Not particularly," Lucius said, his cultured standard English drifting across the table without emphasis.

"We are not here to discuss the past, or the place of Muggle-borns in our society," Minister Smythe said, trying to again control of the meeting after his fumbled greeting. He nodded towards Lily Evans, who looked a little perturbed at being singled out as a representative of all Muggle-borns. "We are here to discuss the issue of the elves."

"I would hardly call it an _issue_," Voldemort said snidely, "Rather more of a disaster."

"You would know, you've lost a lot of men," Crouch barked, his expression suggesting that the Aurors could take Voldemort down with ease now.

"That's not how it looked at Goring," said Nott, "but then you did turn on us rather rapidly."

"And you wouldn't have turned on us?"

"We were there to assist," Lucius said smoothly.

"Assist whom?"

"Gentlemen," Albus said, his calm voice cutting through flaring tempers. "If we might leave the past where it is."

"Quite so," coughed the Minister. He turned to a point somewhere between the Order and the Death Eaters and said, "I believe there were some events at Tintagel Castle recently that we are not fully aware of..."

It was Remus who answered the implicit question, giving a brief accounting of the destruction of the Doors and of the castle itself. The fact that they had saved Voldemort in the process was lightly glossed over, with a brief implication that the Ministry would have to ask the Dark party for more information on that front.

James shifted in his seat uneasily as the slow exchange and dissection of information continued, all sides wary of giving too much about themselves away. Although the Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix had worked together, the dynamic had been greatly altered with the return of Lord Voldemort. The acrimony towards Dumbledore by the Dark Lord was palpable, and the way that his cohorts had reverted to their masks was equally telling. Those purebloods were more afraid of their own Lord and Master than the retribution of the Ministry. James sighed; was there no one who was not afraid now?

In a part of his mind James knew that he was depressed – not just said and grieving over the loss of his best friend, but truly depressed. It was like a black cloud into which he'd stumbled and now could not find his way out, even if he had the energy to try. He had tried, for Lily's sake if not his own, but even when he risked his life he could still feel it there like a pulsing black spider lurking in his mind.

Sitting up straighter James tried to focus on what was happening around him. The forced cordiality had already broken down, and despite Dumbledore's remarks the past was being brought up in all its rotten glory.

"What we've done? You're the ones who locked up a minor in Azkaban!"

"She was not a minor."

"Perhaps if she'd stayed there we wouldn't be in this mess."

"We still don't know the name of this Seer."

"You work with them yet don't think to get important details, really Albus!"

"Le Fay got out by herself, we will not negotiate on leadership, and our Seer is Severus Snape," Lord Voldemort said clearly with a bite in his voice.

The clearing fell silent for a moment, digesting this information, and Albus looked on with a touch of hope. Then it died as the arguments sprang up again, louder and more chaotic than before. Voices rang out as everyone was caught up in the furore, some accusing people, others demanding answers to questions that were lost in the cacophony. Blood slurs were brought out and the meeting began to resemble a childish fight more than a diplomatic negotiation. The elves were forgotten as retribution was sought for deaths and perceived slights in equal measure. On the edge of being drawn into the conflict, Albus raised his wand and silenced the gesticulating crowd. There was an amusing moment as the opponents figured out that they could no longer be heard and then he spoke.

"I suggest we take a short recess, to calm ourselves and re-establish our reasons for being here. The elves, gentlemen, ladies," Albus said, his own calm belying his words. With a second flick of his wand voices were restored.

The Minister coughed, checking his sound levels, and agreed, "A wise idea."

The twelve men and women split off from the table, huddling into groups as cooler heads tried to appear. James picked himself up and wandered away from the rest; he'd been having a quite good argument with Nott which had driven the depression from his mind, but now they'd broken it was back. He sighed a touch pitiably and looked up to see Lily following him. He paused and leant back against a handy tree, fighting the urge to sink to the ground in a curled ball.

"Those load of ingrates! Those balls of flobberworm pus!" Lily fumed, kicking out at an innocent shrub. "They think they're so great just because they know who their grandfather twelve times over is. And don't mention the other lot to me. Who do they think they are? How can they think women aren't as good as men? I tell you, our son is going to be taught quite different values!"

"Yes dear," James replied tonelessly. Then his brain caught up with his ears and he pushed off from the tree. "What? Our son?"

"Oh!" Lily's hand flew to her mouth and she stopped in her pacing. Points of colour appeared in her cheeks and she admitted, "I wasn't going to tell you just yet."

"Tell me that we're going to have a son?" James questioned, seeking clarification in her beautiful green eyes.

"Or a daughter. I don't know that yet," Lily said, a tentative smile emerging.

"But right now? We're going to have a – Right now?"

"In eight months time, but, yes. We're going to have a baby," Lily said with a bubble of laughter.

James stared sightlessly at Lily for a second, then he took her face in his hands and kissed her passionately. When he finally drew back he had a massive grin on his face and the light was back dancing in his eyes. He gave an almighty jubilant crow and lifted Lily up, spinning her round in his arms.

"A baby! A baby!" he yelled happily, setting her down and kissing her again. "We're going to have a baby. I'm going to be a – Merlin. I'm going to be a father. Um.". He drew back, a look of amazement and stunned contemplation in his hazel eyes as he processed the news.

Lily watched anxiously, knowing that he'd been so depressed and wondering if this would bring him totally out of it, or send him spiralling deeper into self-doubt. James walked away, paused – clearly thinking hard. When he turned back he was determined, a strong set to his jaw and steel in his bones. He went back to Lily and held her gaze.

"I promise you, our child will grow up safe," he said grimly. Then a smile broke out on his face again and he added, "And once we've got rid of these elves we're getting married."

"Is that a proposal?" asked Lily.

"I suppose it is."

"Alright then. May 15th alright for you?"

James looked up, pretending to consult his internal diary as he felt Lily's body shake with suppressed laughter. "Yes," he said finally, then they both burst out laughing.

When they returned to the clearing, thoroughly kissed and still smiling, the meeting looked set to resume. Unfortunately it looked set to resume with further arguments. The Ministry would not concede that Voldemort's oratory skills were valuable, or that Snape's vision of the future was in any way likely to occur. The Dark forces on the other hand, refused to commit to any alliance which could be used against them in the future. Dumbledore had tried to point out that the Dark Arts had proved useful against the elves, and that the future was never entirely predetermined. This helped no one and things deteriorated further.

Blood slurs, murder charges, and wild accusations were thrown back and forth. Politics and the past edging into the present. A Death Eater James knew was Bellatrix raised her voice over them all, besmirching the names of all those who did not agree with her beliefs.

James shook his head at the growing pointlessness and asked quietly, "Does it matter?"

His soft words created a hole in the arguments like no shouting could. All eyes turned to him and silence began to fall. Looking round, James asked again, standing as he spoke, "Does it matter who is stronger magically? Or who started our civil war?

"Look, the Ministry may be right about there being not enough diversity in high profile jobs. And Voldemort may be right about Muggle-borns polluting our society," James swallowed against his words and ploughed on, "But all these arguments are about just that – Our Society. A society that is currently under threat. In one short month the elves have taken most of Southern England, destroying our people as they go. It didn't matter to them what side we were on, or what views we held, they just saw one society – Wizarding Society.

"If we don't set aside our differences now, then we won't have a society to argue _about_. We have to stop arguing and pull together because otherwise what sort of world are we going to hand the next generation? Are we going to tell our children that our ideals, our politics, were more important than our lives? Because that's what it comes down to," James paused and caught every eye around the table before concluding softly, "You don't have to like the man who saves your life."

The table was silent with contemplation.

Behind his mask Lucius frowned as he thought about Narcissa, buoyant in her pregnancy, and the type of world he wanted for the son or daughter yet to be born. To have a fair society required peace. A hand drifted to his face, lingering on his mask. Perhaps there was a way.

Across the wide table Crouch's mind was on his son. He was about to graduate from Hogwarts; they had an acerbic relationship, neither one able to make the other listen. He had argued with young Barty Jr. on many an occasion and feared what he would do once he was free of school. For all that Crouch knew one thing: he wanted the best for his son. Could he still do that, even if it meant putting aside his job, his goal to take down the Dark forces?

Voldemort's brow furrowed as the images of Maeve and Morrigan were tugged forwards in his mind. Beside them was his younger self, tormented and brutalized by Muggles, his abilities scorned. It would only be on this one occasion that he must set aside his personal crusade, and the elves _were_ the greater and more immediate threat. With one voice, one unity, they could drive evil from their lands.

"What Mr Potter says has merit," he said into the quiet green clearing.

Nodding slowly Minister Smythe said, "Perhaps we can come to some agreement, for the sake of the future."

"We will need a place to make our stands," Albus suggested, a twinkle of pride in his eyes, "May I recommend Old Sarum?"

There were agreeing nods on all sides, and Lucius leaned forwards saying, "We will need to entice the elves to come to us."

"Maybe that Slytherin cunning will come in useful after all," Crouch said, trying to remove all bitterness from his voice.

Bit by bit plans were formed and treaties hammered out. There was still the occasional snipe, but James's words had cut deep. As unhappy an alliance as it was, the three sides would work together to defeat the elves. Everything elves was to be put aside. James felt Lily's hand take his and he returned her thankful smile. Maybe there was some hope after all.

Mongan slumped in a chair as Lleu paced back and forth in front of him. The shape-changing always took a lot out of him, but it had been necessary to get to Windsor as fast as possible. On his arrival Mongan had been surprised to see a great white dragon lounging on the outskirts of the camp, and even more so when he realised his other brother, Bran, was here. He, unlike Lleu, got on quite well with Bran. So as he'd unfolded the events at Tintagel he had been glad of his support, especially when the angry energy drained out of him.

He had been furious when he arrived, denouncing all wizards, and throwing things in a rare display of temper. When he'd spotted the weakling wizard cowering in the corner of the tent Mongan had had his knife at the man's throat faster than his brother could say stop. They had had an argument then. Mongan claimed that the snivelling man had led them into a trap, allowing Voldemort to be captured just so the wizards and that traitor Le Fay could destroy the Gateway. Lleu had been expounding his response concerning the limited strategic faculties of humans when Mongan's energy fell and so, almost, did he. Bran, having sat quietly through his brothers' ranting, jumped up and caught him, strong despite his deformities. As he lowered Mongan in a chair Bran had calmly pointed out that searching for reasons was a waste of time, as was placing blame. Lleu had silenced, grunted, and begun pacing.

Mongan was just starting to wonder about food and retribution when a messenger burst into the tent and fell to one knee, holding up his missive.

"My lords, I bear a message from the wizards of Britain," he gasped, the rolled parchment quivering in his hand.

Lleu turned in his pacing and strode over to snatch up the beribboned parchment. He tore it open, waving a dismissing hand to the messenger, who bowed and exited hastily.

_Victor, by election, by prescription, by achievement, Minister of Magic over all wizards in Great Britain, Chief Mugwump of the Wizengamot, Order of Merlin First Class, to Lleu of the Long Hand, ancient lord of the Otherworld, now styling himself King of this, our land, Greetings._

_For to prevent the destruction of, and for the avoiding of all other inconveniences likely to arise from the war now levied in our realm of Great Britain, it is our pleasure to prove in clean wager of battle that the said land is lawfully our gift by right and conquest._

_We further propose that this engagement take place upon the lands of Old Sarum, long held sacred by all right minded people as a place of might, worth, and decision._

_Wherefore we heartily provoke, challenge, and defy you and your somewhat noble brothers to the said combat._

_Given at our lodging in Old Sarum this XIII day of the month of -_

The letter crumpled in Lleu's furious hand and he looked through angry eyes at his upstanding brothers, each displaying their own displeasure at the tone and wording of the missive. Lleu marched over to where his sword lay and pulled it violently from its sheath.

"My brothers," he said in a cold voice, "We march on Old Sarum. Tonight!"


	47. The Last Battle

**A/N: Voldemort's Speech has been partially lifted/altered from the speeches made by Henry V in Shakespeare's play of the same name. No infringement is intended.**

**Thank you to all those who have placed this story on Story Alert: **Aureolequinox, brittanythestoryteller, ByeByeBirdie, Elf on a Plaque, fpcc, Goldenlioness4, LaughingForever, majo17, Mystical Magical Me, Noelle D, Rosie19693, Sincerely Savannah, StarKid Mcfly & swindiva87. **Without you I would have no idea that this story was so liked.**

**Only the Epilogue to go after this folks: look forward to hearing what you think about _this_ chapter!**

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The wind was cold as wizards began to gather within the circles of Old Sarum. Inside the inner ring ditch a steep mound lay, the sparse ruins atop it providing little protection for Voldemort as he paced. The wind stung his ears and cut through warm clothes, the endless moan setting his teeth on edge even as he tried to focus.

In a few short minutes he would be addressing every wizard within reach of a Wireless as well as those already appearing at the old hill fort. It was important that he got it right, the words had to appeal to all, cut through the fear he'd helped build up, and inspire the wizards of Britain to rise up and join the Alliance.

He shivered against the cold that blew constantly and paused to look over the ruined wall to where Morrigan and Snape were standing. She had that stubborn look which he'd come to know so well, and Snape took a step closer, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. Voldemort frowned, when had they got so close? He knew Snape had been providing a secure place for her, but still – Who was Severus Snape anyway? The son of some Muggle and the last of the pureblood Prince line, a potions maker. Hardly someone suitable for Morrigan Le Fay, daughter of the House of Slytherin. Now if only Lucius had a younger brother, Voldemort mused as the blond man passed by the arguing pair.

Then Lucius was here, bowing in the subtle 'I'm following your lead but my mind is my own' way of his. It was time.

Voldemort crossed the mound from one ruined building to another, to where the Ministry had erected a Wireless transmitter. Towering into the wind-blasted sky the thin aerial was lashed with magical rope. A nervous operator fiddled with a few knobs then skittered away as Voldemort approached. Smythe was already in place, an aide standing close by as he introduced the broadcast.

The Minister said a few last words then nodded to Voldemort. He sank into the available chair before the microphone, closed his eyes, relaxed his tense shoulders, and began.

"_I am speaking to you from the centre of Old Sarum. I do so not as your enemy nor, indeed, as your friend, but as a fellow wizard intent to defend this land from those who would take it from us. We have fought the elves in Cornwall and in Devon, at Oxford and at Goring, and now it is once more the time to fight. Together._

_In times of peace a good wizard looks to his family, his books, his potions. But when the horn blows and war is declared then he must imitate the lion. Stiffen the sinews, bare the tooth and eye. Stretch forth the hand and claim what is rightfully his. No more the killing tongue and quiet sword where only words are broken and bad deeds go unchecked. Instead we are but warriors for the working day._

_This day is called Whitsunday._

_And those of us that see this day and come out the other side will, in years to come, stand tall upon the vigil. He will push back his sleeve and bare his scars, and say 'These wounds I had on Whitsunday.' Those of us who fight this day, our names shall be remembered ever on."_

Far distant, Mr and Mrs Weasley listened closely to their Wireless, hands clasped and faces worried as the speech went on. Behind them, crouching between banisters, three small boys peered disobediently at their parents, trying to make sense of a senseless situation.

"_Come now, you noblest of wizards. Dishonour not your names; now show that those who would claim you braggarts are but in their cups. Be of true form to those of lesser blood and show them what it is to war._

_And you, worthy men of England, think on this. He that does not fight today will return to home and hearth, hold open the door, and let the elves contaminate his family. Will you not fight with us and forget the evils of the past? For today he that sheds his blood with me I shall call brother. Will you in future years think on this Whitsunday and wish again that you were here?_

_There are thousands ranged against us, and we few may be marked to die, yet we will fight on. For if we do not fight then we will surely lose, and England with us. Yet if with your aid we do survive this day and emerge triumphant upon the field of battle, then true glory shall be laid upon all the fighters."_

Between the two deep ring ditches of Old Sarum Aurors and Unspeakables felt their hearts race. Order members clenched their fists, and Death Eaters lifted their heads high. Blood pulsed through veins making feet stamp and cheers rise in one symphonic voice. Voldemort rose to his feet, microphone clasped in hand as his words rang out across the plain.

"_As those crawling creatures look upon us here, they may say the English have no thought, for if we did we would run away. I refute them all, for I say we have the courage of a lion, the tenacity of a badger, the clear sight of an eagle, and the cunning of a snake. We are, every one, wizards strong, with honour and nobility in our hearts._

_Follow your spirits, and upon this day, stand with us to cry: _

_'For magic, freedom, and our England!'"_

XoxoX

The woods upon Castle Hill were thick with oak and alder. Branches wove their way across the sky, shedding green light upon the leaf litter below. A gentle hush of wind through leaves dominated the hill; the roar of Muggle traffic far distant like waves upon a shore. Birds could be heard and sometimes seen, a flash of white or gold among the trees. Upon the floor shrubs and young deer-nibbled trees ranged along the man-made paths, and the smell of fresh green growth was in the air.

Remus stepped from the cover of an ancient oak to greet the men and women who approached. All wore loose clothing and concerned expressions.

"They're coming," said the dark Welshman, "And in greater numbers than any of us thought."

"We have numbers too," Remus replied reassuringly, "Not as many, true, but one of us is worth ten of them. All we have to do is wait for the moon to rise."

"And you're sure we'll attack the right army?" asked the female Alpha from the Lake District.

Remus walked towards the descending slope and saw the glint of light on bronze armour for himself. They came in a wave from the east, the passage of their passing felt in the tramp of boots upon the earth. Remus felt his hackles rise; invaders, enemies, they would be torn down. He looked away, to the near north-west where Old Sarum rose from the contoured land. The entrance to that fort of old faced east, a reminder from times when all attacks came from the continent. He pointed to the flatter land between Castle Hill and Old Sarum.

"They will have no choice but to march between us and the forces of the Alliance," he said to the other pack leaders, "To get to any wizards we would have to go through elves."

At the sound of a great horn they attacked. Spears flung high created a bridge of wood that rained down upon the defenders, cutting through magical shields and flesh alike. Soldiers poured over the muggle road, cut down with deadly fire and quick green light.

The Prewett brothers clasped hands and stepped forwards onto the high mound that ran the inner length of the ditch. Though reinforced with great numbers of witches and wizards after Voldemort's speech the Alliance had not foreseen the sheer volume and ferocity of the elves. They crashed against the uphill position, throwing themselves down the ditch without regard for life or limb in their struggle to gain purchase within the fort.

Fabian threw fire and ice, curse after curse, into the body of spear totting elves. His own fierce desperation matched by his brother beside him. From their position they could see the spread of the enemy, could see that for every one killed more would come. Fires flared, bright even in the daylight as spells were launched as far as they would fly. In return the elves sent waves after wave of bronze-headed spears, their points enchanted with old metal magic to cut through magical shields.

Fabian yelled at Gideon to get down as another flight of deadly weapons cut the air, throwing himself to the ground as he did. He jumped back up, _Dragonfyre_ on his lips he glanced at where his brother lay. Still. Fabian gave a hoarse shout and dove towards his twin, but there was nothing he could do, the spear had stolen the life from him. He pressed a brief, loving hand to Gideon's chest and launched back up, the killing curse now ready to be thrown.

Pain struck him hard and he looked down in shock to see a matching spear emerging from his chest. A final sigh escaped him as Fabian collapsed to the ground beside his brother.

XoxoX

The elves had broken through the wall of wizards at the entrance over the outer ditch. Bellatrix struggled over mounds of bodies, keeping her profile low as she made her way to the bank above the ditch. There she lay in the shadow of a burnt bush and systematically tore strips from the bottom of her robes.

Across the plain there would have been many signs of burning, were it not for the swarming elves that pushed their way forwards. The blockade at the entrance had held a long time but sheer numbers had eventually overwhelmed it.

Now the elves were within the outer ditch, the wizards fighting against them, taking each yard, each inch. From here Bellatrix could see no difference between the wizards of the Alliance; one moving group, blades flashing, spells firing. They were all warriors together now, regardless of where they had come from.

Bellatrix wound the strips of robe around her bleeding leg and watched as the wizards were slowly pushed back. If they got beyond the ruined building before the entrance then the wizards would pull back to higher spits of land. Banks had been built up centuries ago, splitting the outer land into semicircles. Now those fortifications would provide vantage for casting, for killing.

The wizards looked so few when compared to the elven numbers. A mere fifteen hundred against thousands. In the fort they looked stronger, even though the inner mount had once held a massive castle, the outer a cathedral.

Finished binding, Bellatrix readied herself to charge back into the fray, to rejoin the small cut-off band fighting from a higher ridge near the taken entrance. The sound of cantering horses, deep but loud, turned her head back out to the plains. From the north came men on horseback, swords glinting, shields shining. Bellatrix enhanced her sight as the cavalry charged, met, and trampled the northern lines of elves into the ground. Not horses – Centaurs! For the first time in a great age the centaurs had stirred themselves from high moor and dark wood to change the destiny of the world.

"This must be Dumbledore's doing," Bellatrix muttered, and then she gasped. With her far-sighted vision she had seen a centaur, young and fearsome, rear up to lash out with front hooves, knocking a pair of elves to the ground while he cut out with sharp sword. Hardly amazing, but what she had seen was iron upon those hooves – the centaurs were shod.

A grim but happy smile upon her face, Bellatrix turned back, grasped sword and wand securely and ran from cover. A dark figures made her pause, then she saw the wand and ran on. Behind her, Agent lit a thin string upon the ground and ran. Bellatrix laughed wildly as she met the red-haired elves, so many enemies to chose from! A thin line of fire flickered across the ground. She threw a series of killing curses, then slashed out with her sword into the face of another elf. The line of fire vanished, and a great explosion took its place.

Great clods of earth tore from the ground, bits of metal barrel flew. Pieced by deadly iron shrapnel, burnt and blown apart, the elves swarming through the entrance fell through the air to land hard upon the ground. Gunpowder had a use other than for fireworks.

Bellatrix lay on her back blinking, her ears ringing from the force of the explosion. In the corner of her eye she could see the moon just rising, pale in the blue and cloudy sky. Blood was trickling from a wound in her head and she tried to lift her hand to staunch the flow. Her hand wouldn't move. She tried to turn her head, to sit up, to move at all. She couldn't. Desperate, and becoming afraid, Bellatrix tried to call out for help, but her voice wouldn't work. She blinked back tears and inside her mind Bellatrix screamed.

XoxoX

Upon Castle Hill men and women were undergoing the painful process of becoming wolves. Spaced out in the woods, each pack changed together, used to each others cries.

Remus stood by the old oak and relaxed into the change. There had been some months when he'd resisted the moon's inexorable pull for as long as he could. Today though he welcomed the change. Out of all the werewolves he would be the only one to keep his mind and his sense. For the first time in werewolf history disparate packs would come together under one leader. Him.

He smiled and the grin grew larger and more toothy till a pure wolfish grin graced his face. The elves wouldn't know what hit them.

XoxoX

Nott was surrounded by fighting elves and wizards, dead bodies and fear. In these close quarters he hardly had time to cast a hail hex before the elf closed on him. He parried the blow and drew the sword back at an angle, making sure the iron tip caused a bloody line in its wake. The elf fell back and Nott turned slightly, stepping back in the churned bloody soil to stand firm against the next attack.

A piercing, many-voiced howl rose on the wind, sending shivers down his spine. There was no time to discover what it meant as yet another sword slashed out at him. In the maelstrom of war a warrior could only think of the next thrust, the vital parry, he had no time or thought for anything beyond his own vicinity. Sharp screams sounded as he plunged his blade into an elf's chest, shouting the single word of his chosen hail spell at another.

Pulling his sword free, Nott heard the whistling of a blade behind him, his senses alert for threat even in the cacophony of clashes, yells and cries. He spun as quickly as he could, only to see another shining blade intersect the deadly blow. He jabbed his sword forwards, stabbing the elf deep and rose to standing.

"Alright there, lad?" yelled Alastor Moody, a magical eye spinning wildly in what had been an empty socket.

Nott nodded jerkily and croaked out, "Yes. Ta."

While Nott's mind tried to work out what had just happened, James Potter's words from two days past rang in his ears – _'You don't have to like the man who saves your life."_ His body didn't really care about the politics, it had already jumped back into action. Parry a blow, cast a spell; back to back with Moody, Nott fought on.

The screams and howls across the plain could still be heard above the sound of battle and a small corner of Nott's mind hoped that wolves were on their side. It was another sound that actually drew his gaze away from the endless fighting, or rather the strange absence of sound. Great winds pressing down on the air, forcing it into a concentrated area, muffling all sound. He recognised that heavy feeling, he'd spent three years with that non-sound.

"Dragon," he whispered. Then he raised his sword, pointed at the sky, trusting his life to Moody, and screamed, "DRAGON!"

Heads slewed round and there, sure enough, a sharp white shape in the sky: a dragon. All wide wings and long lashing tail, piercing claws, fearsome fangs, and jaws the size of a man. The dragon bellowed, a roar easily matching the din below it, and brought forth a searing jet of flame.

Upon the dragon's back Bran sat crouched against the wind. From up here he could see the armies laid out like toy soldiers. At first glance it looked as though the elves were surrounded; centaurs trampling them from the north, werewolves tearing into them from the south, wizards slicing and bombarding them from the west. But then one realised how small each of those forces were in the green landscape when compared to the bronze might of the elves. The wizards may have claimed the higher ground, but they were sorely outnumbered.

Bran directed the dragon down to the rising mound in the centre of the circle, where a huge black raven circled overhead. The dragon swooped, attempted to claw the bird out of the sky, but the raven was too agile. She screamed her defiance at the great white creature, and the dragon roared back in frustration.

It let loose a burst of flame that burnt trees, temporary shelters, and people indiscriminately, then curved back up into the sky. Bran smiled and looked away towards the entrance to Old Sarum where the bushes still burnt orange from an explosion. He would teach the wizards the true power of fire.

Upon the mound a team of a dozen wizards were swiftly assembled and charged with paying attention to nought but the dragon. It may have been a magical creature summoned from its rest under the land, but that didn't stop it being vulnerable to multiple stunning spells.

Morrigan, now in raven form thanks to the risen moon, fluttered down to land on the partially standing edging wall next to Severus. She had not like that dragon one bit and felt the need to stabilise herself before she took to the air again. Though no one could communicate with her in this form, she and the wizards had swiftly worked out a way that put her aerial view to advantage. By hovering over any given portion of the battle below, she signalled where spells were most needed.

Severus reached out and ran a soft thumb over her head, his eyes remaining fixed outwards. She cawed gently and looked up at him with one big black eye. Beside them Lily hid a smile and went back to causing chaos with her well-placed fog charms. She positioned the fog bank right over the deep outer ditch and made it seem as if there was a second way into the already breached ring. Then she waited for the elves to run into the fog, fall down the ditch and break their necks. It was simple, effective and – Lily blinked.

Floating in front of her was a ghostly woman with familiar features. For a second she thought it was Morrigan, but a glance showed the raven still perched before Severus. It also showed that no one else could see the apparition.

"Curcus," the woman whispered, before she faded away, pointing at the swooping dragon as she went.

_Circus? Circus?_ What use was that to any one? Lily scowled at the place where the ghost had been. There were no circuses round here. They were in the middle of the countryside, muggle towns here and there, Stonehenge not six miles distant... Stonehenge. Lily had visited that circle of stones with accompanying mounds as a child. Petunia had complained loudly, but Lily had loved every minute. Her father had stood atop one of the mounds, pointed to a long ridge in the land and told her a made-up story of a dragon hidden beneath and how historians had mistaken it for a Roman racecourse – a curcus. Curcus. _Curcus_, not _circus!_

Lily swirled round, watching the dragon avoid a series of red stunners only to let loose another deadly jet of flame. If the story was true – and since magic existed anything was possible – then there was a dragon six miles away which could fight that white monstrosity. Making a fast decision, Lily ran over to James and kissed his cheek. He turned, surprised. Ignoring those gorgeous hazel eyes, she blurted, "I've had an idea. I love you. I'll be back soon." Then, before he had time to reply, she disapparated.

With a snarl and a leap Moony sliced through another elf's armour like paper, bore him to the ground and tore out his throat. Red muzzled and breathing heavily he looked around with intelligent eyes. On both flanks werewolves carved their way through soldiers, snarls and growls competing with screams. Before him, a sea of elves, densely packed and apparently never-ending. The stiff breeze brought the scent of horse-flesh to his nose, and if he listened hard he could hear the war cries of centaurs – _'For glorious Mars!'_

The battle flowed on past him, a long-limbed werewolf loping by. Moony had been slightly surprised at the variety of form that had appeared on Castle Hill after the moon rose. Many, like him, had transformed into much-larger-than-average wolves, with nothing really distinguishing them from true wolves except their size. But others, like the Welsh pack leader, had become fearsome monsters, not truly wolf but certainly no longer human. Long limbs, a more upright stance, and claws that no wolf could hope to match.

Somewhere deep in his memory Moony remembered a werewolf like those. A slavering beast come out of the night to terrorize a sleeping village. A small boy out hunting for a dropped toy. Pain and blood.

Moony snarled at the thought and sat back on his haunches. Lifting his muzzle to the sky he let loose a long lilting howl, filled with power and information. He was Alpha here.

XoxoX

At the very narrow entrance to the higher hill James stabbed an elf, threw him off the bridge and cast a howling wind at the elves trying to cross. They were blown back, helmets torn off, arms held to protect faces. Again James yelled for assistance but elven forces had made it halfway round to the cathedral ruins on the west and all defenders were focused there. Spells were fired down upon elven head, forcing them to slow their progress.

James cursed and hit the next elf to attempt the crossing in the eye before stabbing him where it hurt the most. One wizard could hold this bridge, but it was damned hard work. He heard the inwards breath of a dragon prepared to scorch the countryside and threw himself flat on the ground. A multitude of stunners shot overhead and the dragon's blast went awry, turning the attacking elves into barbecue.

It gave James relief for a second, a second in which his mind worried once more about Lily. Where had she gone? And would she come back in one piece?

More elves reached the opposite end of the bridge and James squared himself to fight. The thought of Lily harmed gave him anger he could use.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_ he cast into the throng and an elf fell down, surprise still etched into his face.

Another gale spell, some more hand to hand, and then he heard the whistling of spears. He looked over, but the single-file attackers had only swords. James swirled to his left, then his right, and behind his blood-flecked glasses his eyes widened. There was no time to dodge. The thought of his speedy healing flicked through his mind.

_CRACK!_

A scream of pain and the tatter-robed wizard fell to the ground, impaled upon a spear. James looked down in shock, trying to discover the identity of his superfluous saviour.

"James?" the man croaked, reaching up a bloody hand.

"Peter?" James said in shock, automatically taking the dying man's hand.

"I'm so sorry, James. I thought I could fix it," Peter gasped in agony, his eyes dimming. "I should never have gone. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"It's alright. It's okay," James said instinctively, confused beyond belief at his erstwhile friend's sudden appearance.

"I saved you, didn't I?" Peter said softly, blood trickling from his mouth.

"Yes. Yes, Peter, you saved me," James replied, but it was too late for the man to hear.

A cry behind him jolted James from his reverie, and he turned hastily, picking up his sword. There was a clash of steel and bronze and Severus cast a burning hex into the body of an elf. A raven clawed at the onrushing forces, while Lucius Malfoy, blond hair bloodied, slaughtered those who had made the inner mound.

Severus offered a hand to the shocked James and said clearly, "There's nothing more you can do for him."

"I know," muttered James, but accepted the hand nonetheless. He looked Snape in the eye and tried to find some words.

Severus half-shrugged, half-nodded, and turned back to the battle, a fearsome look upon his face, James Potter by his side.

XOXOX

Diametrically opposite the main blasted entrance there was a second entrance across the outer ditch. It wasn't as good as the main one, with a fair sized bank making entry difficult, but it was usable. Not a hundred yards away lay the ruined cathedral, its cross shape still distinct after all these years. At the north of the complex a deeply dug building was the only one on the site to have the stone-built remains of a roof. Once it had been the treasury and mint, now it was being used as a lookout point by Frank Longbottom.

Stood atop the building he focused out over Salisbury Plain, sure he had seen the glint of armour. King Lleu had been sighted in the heart of battle; one brother aboard that menacing dragon; but the other was still at large. It was he that Frank was concerned about; he wouldn't put it past the elves to attempt to take the rear entrance as well, thus surrounding the defenders.

The clash of battle brought Frank back from his musing, and he fired a stunning red beam into the air to ward off the white dragon before jumping to the ground. He ran across the neatly clipped, and now turning to mud, grass to where Alice was valiantly holding back two opponents. Frank ducked under a flailing arm and killed one while she took care of the other.

The slight rise they found themselves on afforded as good a view of the battle as the mint did of the plain. The elves had stalled in their onwards rush between two rises, and were taking heavy casualties. Bodies lay everywhere on the once-neat sward, blood staining the grass where it wasn't blackened and burnt by wizard or by beast.

Some more elves charged up their slope and the Longbottom cut them down with easy grace. Auror trained they were the lucky ones: for many of the witches and wizards now defending Britain this was their first time picking up a sword or casting to kill. However, what they lacked in experience they made up for in enthusiasm; they were fighting to retain what they had – a more tangible and sustaining thing than many realised.

Sounds of multiple apparation in the cathedral ruins made Frank grab Alice and hurtle back down the hill. He slid ungracefully to a stop yards from the arriving wizards. There looked to be a full hundred of them, many bearing staffs and weary expressions.

"Frank Longbottom?" questioned the lead man in happy surprise.

"John Smith! It's good to see you, man. I thought you were trapped in Oxford?" Frank replied, grasping the man's hand.

"I was. We were," agreed John, "But yesterday the elves outside our walls left, and twelve hours later we found the restraining shield had vanished. Took us a little while to get everyone together, treated and the like, but well – we heard you have a bonny fight here and thought we'd join you."

"You are most welcome," Frank said, "The elves are through the outer ring and heading out way. Oh, and there's a dragon."

"Dragon?" asked Edward Grey from behind Smith. "Where did they get a dragon?"

"Don't know. Don't care," Frank shrugged, "Shall we?" He waved his arm in the direction of the rise beyond which the sounds of war rose.

"I rather think we ought to remain here," said a young fellow, pointing out over the embankment to the north. The glint that Frank had seen had moved a lot closer and resolved into a mere vanguard of the elvish army – five hundred more elves were coming their way.

"Ah," said Alice, casting a look at Frank, "Helpful."

Those were the last major words anyone exchanged for a while, for as Mongan's detachment from Oxford arrived at Old Sarum they swept easily round and up through the sloping back entrance. Oxford students, Aurors, and British wizards fought them at every turn, using the upstanding walls as vantage points. Though outnumbered five to one, the Oxfordians made good use of their education in the art of war.

Frank fought on, but as the dragon came blasting down he and his band were forced to run for cover. Sheltering in the mint, Frank turned to Bennett who had helped his Professor stagger in.

"How is he?" he asked.

Bennett shook his head and pressed more firmly on the bleeding wound. "He needs St. Mungo's treatment," he said.

"Can you apparate?" Frank said.

"I always splinch side-alongs," Bennett confessed with a bleak look.

"Damn," Frank cursed, and looked towards the stairs and the body of wizards easily holding off any elves at the turn. "Maybe-" he began.

"It would be inefficient to save me," Fothergill said, the strain of speaking clear, "You need every man to do his duty. As I have always done mine. Young man, do not demean my sacrifice."

"I'd rather you didn't have to sacrifice yourself at all," said Frank, crouching down beside the elderly Professor.

"Indeed. But such is the nature of war. People die so others can live a free and happy life. If you know of another way to achieve the same ends..." Fothergill trailed off, closing his eyes as his breathing slowed.

"Frank!" cried Alice from the doorway.

He half-turned, laid a hand on Fothergill's arm and muttered, "I'm sorry," before heading to help the half-dozen at the stairs.

"Whatever for?" Fothergill murmured.

XoxoX

The wizards were loosing. Small battles were being won here and there; the inner mound still remained untouched, but the wizards were loosing. The number of elves was simply too many. Though outside the fort the werewolves and centaurs made an appreciable dent in the army, the white dragon made a worse one in the wizarding forces. Dropping from the sky it let loose massive belches of fire, burning up all those in its path, and then climbing swiftly with great sweeps of its wings back up away from the stunning spells sent hurtling from wands.

Near the cathedral two bodies of elves, one led by Captain Gar, the other by Lord Mongan, were on the verge of joining. Mongan's elves were still greatly harangued by the skilled Oxfordian wizards, their mastery of unusual spells making the fight bitter and bloody.

Fifty or so wizards were clustered around the mint, using it both as fighting platform and as sanctuary. Inside those witches and wizards who knew more about healing than fighting attended a continuous stream of wound soldiers, patching them up and sending them back out.

Upon the front line of the mint defence Frank spotted the arrogant form of Mongan and led a furious charge through ranks of elves. It had been his voice that exhorted the elves to fierce battle and Frank longed to silence it for good. They met on a muddy patch of ground which once held the sainted relics of a martyr. Frank smiled grimly, his men holding back the tide as he faced the monster.

"You have done enough damage," he snarled, "Now it ends."

To his consternation Mongan laughed, "You think you can do what your precious Voldemort could not?"

"He's not my Voldemort!" Frank cried and leaped forwards, blade flashing with reflected light as he brought forth a stream of freezing air from his wand.

Mongan leapt aside ad met the blade with force; parry and riposte. The two fought back and forth, wand and sword against two long knives. Frank had the advantage of reach and used it at every opportunity, only to find himself blocked by faster blades.

A great resounding roar from above sent the men and elves around them scurrying for cover. Mongan locked eyes with the surprisingly skilled wizard and asked, "Not going to run with your fellows?"

"I would rather see you burn!" cried Frank, taking a step back and finding a stone. Launching himself towards the elf he felt an odd sense of glee at the look on his enemy's face. Then he slammed into the elf, pinning him to the ground, his arms locked around Mongan even as he felt pain slice into his side.

Mongan struggled in the embrace but his lithe, wiry strength was no match for the bear-like arms of Frank Longbottom. He turned them over, twisting so his back was towards the wizard, their faces to the sky. Desperately he writhed but to no avail.

The roar came again and both pairs of eyes were drawn to the sky above, expecting the fire to come screaming from an ice-white mouth.

"No!" gasped Mongan, "It can't be! Only a Le Fay's power could-" He cut off and resumed his efforts to get free.

Frank grunted in pain as the bony elbow hit the sharp bleeding wound in his side. He could feel life ebbing from him but even as his vision began to dim he held on. He had hope now that the war would not be lost. For up in the sky a dragon flew. Not a white gangling creature but a majestic red beast, wings wide and jaws agape. As it drew nearer he saw a red head upon its back and for a second his hope faltered, then sparks flew from an upheld wand and he tightened his grip around the squirming elf.

"Let me go! You'll burn too!" Mongan screamed.

"For Magic, Alice, and England," Frank muttered, and closed his eyes against the onrushing flame.

XoxoX

Lily pulled her arm back down from the treacherous winds above the dragon's back and prayed the sparks would be enough. Her other hand pulsed with magic, tying her into the dragon's mind, letting her guide it. She gasped as it let loose an inferno through the remains of Mongan's army, the heat sizzling overhead. Then she directed it up again and towards the main elvish army still pouring through the entrance in the outer ring.

The almighty sound of a dragon's roar met her ears yet didn't vibrate every cell in her body, and she looked up in fearful curiosity. There, hurtling towards them, was the white dragon, its own guiding figure upon its back. The red dragon roared in answering challenge and Lily clung on.

The two great beasts met in mid-air with a thunderous crash, claws seeking purchase, heads swivelling, and full-throated cries sounding across the plain.

They separated, wings beating furiously as they sped out, searching for a high-rising thermal to send them further aloft. The red dragon caught one first, ascending to hover above his adversary until he dropped, wings folded, claws outstretched. The white dragon swivelled in the air, turning on its back to lock claws with the red descending bolt. They spiralled, locked together, tails thrashing. Then, at the last possible moment, they came apart.

The white dragon turned its sinuous neck and let loose a burst of flame. It rolled across the red scales, doing to damage to the dragon. Lily hastily threw up a shield against the heat and hung on with all her might.

The red dragon launched another attack, now using claws, now snapping at the long neck and tail. In a daring move Bran directed his white beast to drop like a stone, almost landing before launching itself back up into the sky like a slingshot. The red dragon was unprepared and bellowed in pain as the white claws raked along his back. Turning, he fled into the cloudy skies. The white dragon screamed its success and was echoed by the delighted yell of its rider.

Flapping huge wings gracefully it soared back to the fighting armies, prepared to decimate the wizarding forces once again. A strange whistling sound caught Bran's attention and he searched the ground below and skies above for its source. His eyes widened as he saw the red dragon burst from the clouds, hurtling groundwards at untold speed. He turned his mind to his white mount, but it was too late.

The red dragon's claws sunk deep into the white dragon's back, causing a deafening squeal of pain and wild thrashing. It broke free and angled its wings, trying to respond with fire. The red dragon pressed home his advantage, pulling back his claws to breath white-hot flame into the bleeding wounds. Where dragon fire rolled off dragon scales it burnt deep into exposed flesh. The red dragon breathed out again and darted in to wrestle sharp fangs around its long neck. The white dragon roared, bucked, and fell limp.

Red victor let the dead weight fall, and the white spiralled lazily to the ground, landing with an almighty thud. Lily and her dragon screamed victory to the skies, arcing magnificently back to Old Sarum and the elvish invaders.

XoxoX

King Lleu watched in growing anger as the red monster burnt a hole in the heart of his troops. The centaurs and werewolves had already caused him to split the focus of his men, directing those still outside the fort to take care of the beastly rabble. And now his dragon had been killed and replaced with one that attacked him. It was unbearable. Slashing his brilliantly sharp sword through another human, Lleu returned to the fight. He would gain that mound and seal the fates of all wizards.

Few men dared to attack the golden king, the spear in his left hand as deadly as the sword in his right. He cut down man after man, hacking a swathe through the defenders.

When next he arose from battle blood and focused mind, he saw the one man who had denied him this land. Blue eyes met red, and battle was shortly joined.

Voldemort's blade flashed in the waning light, catching the fast blows of the king and turning them aside. He leapt out of the path of the stabbing spear, his just healed wounds protesting the movement. An overhead cut flickered down and he parried well, keeping one eye on that long spear. Then the tempo changed, and Voldemort realised that Lleu had just been testing him.

Lleu rattled off a series of blows, each one harder and faster than the last. His brother had spoken of Voldemort's skill with a blade, but there was a reason why Lleu was king, not Mongan. Lleu's blade flew with the speed and accuracy of a falcon, his spear darting in to keep the enemy off balance. He pushed the red-eyed wizard back, then allowed him a pace forwards. Blades clashed and sang of blood even as Lleu reached out with his spear. Positioning it carefully he forced Voldemort back again. The wizard tripped over the outstretched spear and fell. Lleu followed quickly, his thrust going deep and spilling life's blood to the ground.

The king straightened with pride and victory singing in his veins. He looked for the next opponent; this day was his!

Moony scrambled up the other side of the ditch, pack running behind him and threw himself at the shining figure he'd set his sights on. He gave no warning growl as the elf crumbled beneath his paws.

Lleu didn't even have time to scream as the werewolf ripped out his throat.

Moony looked up, barking a warning to a fellow wolf, as he heard a bird scream overhead. He felt the touch of feathers and something shift deep inside. Suddenly Moony felt like he'd lost something important. He tried to transform back, seeking solace in his human form, but it wouldn't come. The shape of _Remus_ was lost.

-o-

Morrigan screamed a raven's cry as she saw Voldemort fall. She screamed again as she fell from the sky, racing to his side. He may not have been the father she'd have chosen, but he was family. Her wings clipped the werewolf as she flew and she felt something shift inside her.

Landing, she reached out with human hands and gathered Voldemort to her, crying out, "Father!" Tears spilled from the young woman's eyes, oblivious to all save the pale man before him. "Father! You can't die. Please..." she pleaded.

Voldemort looked up with glazing eyes into the traumatised face of his beautiful daughter and found the strength to whisper, "Die? That is the last thing I shall do... my daughter." He reached up with a bloody hand and pressed it to her face, "I am proud of you."

Pain shot through him and he arched back, going ridged in her arms, blood spilling from the corner of his mouth as he gasped, "This death...shall not last...forever."

Morrigan screamed again as her father went limp, his lifeless eyes staring at the bloodshot sky. Bowing, she sobbed over his body even as the sound of a wolf howling rose behind her.

XOXOX

The war was over, the clean up just begun. At the deaths of their leaders the elves had come apart, the fire of the dragon spreading them further and sending them running. Few wizards had the stomach to go after the bare thousand that remained from the battle, and so they ran, fleeing into Dartmoor and the places they had long ago called home.

Lucius stood on the grim battlefield not far from Morrigan and Severus. His mask had been lost long ago, his robes ripped and bloody, yet he felt a pale satisfaction in his heart. It wasn't the triumphant victory he'd been hoping for, but somehow it was better; more long-lasting.

Among the dead and dying medical staff hurried back and forth, groups of fighters stood around, not sure where to go from here. Minister Smythe, picking his way, a deep cut marring his face, came over to Lucius and paused. He glanced around, over the blackened landscape and the sharp red shape of a dragon, and finally found himself shaking his head.

"This should not happen again," he murmured.

"How can it not?" Lucius asked sadly, "I don't agree with you, you don't agree with me."

"That is true," admitted Smythe, "But perhaps a negotiating table is better than a battlefield. I have no stomach for war."

Lucius took a breath, glanced over at the body of Lord Voldemort, and said, "That is something we can agree on."

-o-

Over by the slow-breathing dragon James crouched down in front of Moony and pleaded with him to change back. The moon had set, the other werewolves had transformed and vanished back into the urban wilderness, but still Moony retained his wolf shape.

"Your name is Remus J Lupin. You have sandy hair and love reading books. Please, Remus, transform..."

Moony cocked his head, clearly understanding every word, and whined. Then he stood up, shook himself and trotted over to where Lily was consoling Alice. Lifting a paw he easily tapped Alice on the tummy. She smiled wanly and patted him on the head.

"Thank you, Remus," she murmured, wiping away fresh tears with her free hand.

Moony tapped her again, then turned to Lily and repeated the move. He sat back on his haunched and looked expectantly up at the women.

"What is it Remus? Do you want something?" Lily asked kindly.

Flicking his ears back in a wolfish sign of annoyance, Moony practically growled in disbelief. _These were the smartest witches of their age? _Instead of snapping at them, Moony sighed and repeated his tapping performance.

"I think he's trying to tell you something, Alice," James said, narrowly avoiding being tripped by the red dragon's meandering tail. Moony barked sharply in agreement. "Are you-" James glanced at Lily before struggling on, "Perhaps...Were you and Frank...Could you be pregnant?"

"What? Um," Alice frowned, not quite able to process the thought. A few calculations later and she blushed faintly, "Oh. It's possible."

Lily held up her wand and murmured a very feminine spell. As the tip of her wand glowed an affirmative blue she caught Alice's gaze with a half-happy smile. Moony barked and happily endured Alice throwing her arms around him, her mixed tears soaking into his fur.

James hugged Lily and murmured, "It's over. It's finally over."


	48. Epilogue

**A/N: Thank you to all those who have reviewed this story: **life1428, Geek09, Ginny124, Elf on a Plaque, elsa2, Sevnion, gold, serindraxx, rumours4 **and especially – **swimdiva87, ZedPM & StarKid Mcfly – **the reviewers who wouldn't stop reviewing!**

**I cannot believe that it's all over, and can only hope that all of you (reviewers, readers, favouriters, alerters) have enjoyed the ride. For more fanfiction by me please go to my profile page. There you will also find the link to my writer's blog ('writemyname' on wordpress), and my original work. I hope to see you all again one day. But for now, adieu. LB**

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Epilogue

Severus Snape strode down the corridor, robes billowing. As he rounded the pale green corner he slowed. Heading in the opposite direction were the Potters; James wheeling Lily who was holding a formless bundle in her arms. Severus scowled and looked for a way to avoid them, but James was already smiling heartily at him.

"Potter. Mrs Potter," Severus greeted them reluctantly.

"Snape," responded James, "Surprised to see you here."

"I am accompanying Narcissa Malfoy on her visit to her sister, Bellatrix," Severus said smoothly.

"Ah. How is she?" James asked politely, running a hand through his already messy hair.

"There remains no change in her condition," Severus replied emotionlessly. Bellatrix would likely stay in her paralysed state, and in St. Mungos, for the rest of her life. Trapped within her body, she probably appreciated these visits, but Severus hated hospitals. "Are you visiting also?"

"No," James's smile blossomed and he looked down at Lily with unadulterated love. Pulling back a corner of the blanket in her arms he said, "Severus Snape, meet Harry Sirius Potter."

Dutifully Severus bent to admire the newborn, his blanket not quite hiding a tiny tuft of black hair. The child yawned pinkly and Severus jerked back as he opened his eyes. They were a clear bright green, exactly the shade of his mother's, exactly the shade that still haunted his dreams from time to time. Severus quickly sought something to cover his shock, and latched on to the middle name of the boy.

"Sirius?" he sneered.

"We thought it appropriate," said Lily softly, with a delicate but tired smile, "Would you like to hold him?"

"I, ah," Severus floundered.

"I hear you've moving out of politics," James cut in, clearly as nervous about Lily's idea as Snape was.

"Yes. I am being convinced to take up the Potions Master position at Hogwarts," Severus said with a sour smile, "Apparently politics makes me...stressed."

"I would think politics would make anyone stressed," commented James.

"Indeed."

An awkward silence fell. Though the three adults had been through a war and saved each others lives, the past could never truly be forgotten. Severus would always remember his mistake with Lily – calling her a Mudblood -, would always remember the taunts and curses the Marauders had sent his way. The past would always be there. But maybe it didn't have to play such a large role anymore. If nothing else, his visions had shown him that the future could be changed – nothing lasted forever.

"I'd best be on my way," Severus said with a polite nod, "Congratulations."

"Thank you," James replied.

As Severus strode off he suppressed a shudder. Harry _Sirius_ Potter. He really needed to find an argument against taking the position at Hogwarts. The child was bound to grow up into a prankster with _that_ heritage, and Severus wanted no part of another generation of Potters. No thank you.

Eleven Years Later

The bright red steam engine puffed in the morning light, keeping its fires alight while young children clambered into the carriages behind it. On Platform Nine and Three-Quarters Draco Malfoy smirked at Theodore Nott who was being fussed over by his mother. Draco's mother was much more composed, chatting lightly to other parents as she waited for her son to board the train for the first time.

"You remember what I told you," Draco's father murmured in his ear.

"Yes father," Draco intoned automatically, much more interested in identifying the other first years in the crowd of students. There seemed to be a lot of kids his age.

"Draco," warned Lucius.

Draco turned slightly to look up at his proud parent. He knew that look. It meant: 'You are a Malfoy, a Pureblood, and my son. Do not disappoint me.' Draco swallowed and repeated more attentively, "Yes father, I remember."

"Good," Lucius looked around, nodding to those he needed to. He was here as much for the concentration of parents as he was for his son. After all, being on the Council for the Preservation of Magical Culture and Inclusion of Muggle-borns into Wizarding Society, was no sinecure.

A small whiny voice sounded from beside Narcissa, drawing Draco away from sneering at a massive family of red-heads, "Why can't I go to Hogwarts?"

"Cause you're a freak, Pin," Draco replied in a bored voice.

"I'm not a freak, and don't call me Pin!"

"Draco, stopping annoying your sister," Narcissa said calmly, "Delphina, you can go to Hogwarts in two years, when you're old enough."

"I'm old enough now," complained the nine-year-old, standing tall.

"You're a baby, Pin. Hogwarts doesn't want babies," Draco sneered.

"I'm not a baby!"

As the argument gained volume Lily Potter looked over and gave a sad little smile. She would love to have another child, even with the arguments. But she and James had long decided that having another baby was too risky. They both still retained Le Fay's powers, and Harry had demonstrated some remarkably directed 'accidental' magic since he was very small. She turned back to her little family, Harry talking really quickly to his best friend, Neville Longbottom, while James ruffled the fur of a giant wolf.

Remus had never changed back from his werewolf form, though he had certainly retained his human mind. He didn't seem particularly bothered by his new shape; in fact Lily privately wondered if he preferred it. He definitely seemed more relaxed than he had ever been as a man. Not that Lily had much opportunity to tell, Remus was at the Longbottom's more often than he was at theirs.

"I can't believe they're going off to Hogwarts," said Alice with a sigh, "It seems like only yesterday that they were babies."

"Or that we were at school," Lily added with a laugh.

"True," Alice smiled, then said, "You know, I still can't get my head around that."

"What?"

Alice gestured discretely to the other side of the platform where a dark couple stood with a young boy of eight or nine. "Snape and Le Fay," she clarified.

"I don't know," Lily mused, "I think it's somehow right."

"What's the name of their son again?" Alice asked.

"Sebastian."

"And they're both teachers?"

"Potions and Ancient Runes," Lily replied, questioning why she knew this information when she hadn't spoken to the Snapes in years.

"The things you know," Alice muttered, agreeing with Lily's private thoughts. "Neville," she called, "It's time to say goodbye."

Neville, a chubby cheeked boy with a ready smile, bounced over to his mother and gave her a hug. "Bye mum," he said and was about to vanish again when he caught her look, "Bye Mrs Potter, Mr Potter."

"Goodbye Neville, and good luck," said James, standing up.

Brought over by the call to Neville, Harry smiled up at Mrs Longbottom and hugged his mum. Then he sidled over to his dad and tugged on his robes.

"Yes?" James asked, crouching back down to be on more of an eye-level with his son.

"I'm...nervous," Harry muttered almost inaudibly.

"Why?" James said, totally perplexed. He'd been bouncing to get on the train to Hogwarts his first year.

"Cause of mum," Harry admitted, "and my abilities."

James fixed his son with a calming look, "Look, Harry, those people who like you just because of fame and power aren't your true friends. Those who don't care that you're the son of Lily of the Red Dragon, or that your magic is a little unusual, they're the ones that matter. Those who see Harry, not Harry-the-anything-else. Like Neville. Okay?"

Harry nodded, buoyed by his dad's response. Half-turning to run back to Neville and on to the train, Harry felt his father's hand on his shoulder.

"Harry. Be decent to Sev-Sebastian Snape would you?" James said.

"Sure dad, whatever," Harry shrugged, and with a last yell goodbye he and Neville tripped gaily towards the Hogwarts Express and their home for the next seven years.

In a cave far distant from the steaming train a man with wavy black hair forced the last of a potion down a house elf's throat. The creature gasped, but Regulus Black didn't care. His eyes were fixed to the bottom of a curved stone basin where a small golden locket lay. Reverently, Regulus reached out and picked it up, allowing it to dangle from its golden chain. Upon the locket emeralds glinted in the want light, set in the pattern of a an serpentine 'S'.

"At last," Regulus murmured as he held it up, "My Lord, you shall rise again."

**The End**

**P.S. If you review I will reply, even though it's finished, I still walk by.**


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